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My father was born and grew up on the southside of Chicago; he joined the Air Force during the Vietnam War, serving as a medical tech in Germany & South Korea. He worked for Illinois Bell in Springfield with his father after being discharged, meeting my mother in 1976 while she worked the switchboard for the company. They were married in 1977 and gave birth to a boy named Vincent in 1979. Moving Chicago in 1980, he had another son in 1984. Having a love for sports, he passed it on to his sons. I attended my first baseball in 1989 with my dad at Wrigley Field (v. Expos); next year, me, my brother, and my dad went to the last night game at Comiskey Park.
Throughout the years, we spent watching games involving the Chicago sports teams; we saw the Bulls win their first championship in 1991, the Bears' Super Bowl in 2006, and the Blackhawks Stanley Cup win in 2009. I was on the phone with him counting down the seconds of the 2nd & 3rd Cup wins, plus the final 3 outs of the Cubs World Series win. Every Monday night, we watched WWF during the Attitude Era; PPVs on those Sundays. His favorite wrestler was Shawn Michaels and we both laughed at the Rock's catchphrases and felt pride in a Chicago guy named CM Punk.
He was there for my wedding, and listened to my varying emotions with my wife asked for a divorce; he always was measured, not speaking without thinking. I knew 100% percent I could talk to him about anything. He witnessed my brother's marriage and the birth of two grandchildren. He loved politics and doing yard work, spending hours pulling up weeds, raking leaves, watering and cutting the grass.
The Sunday after the Cubs parade, he collapsed in the house and was taken to the hospital, where he was initially diagnosed as being severely dehydrated and a hemorraged ulcer. He underwent stomach surgery to remove it and we thought he was on the road to recovery; he passed out less than a week later and underwent a procedure to install a pacemaker. He was moved to a post-op/rehab facility to recover, but he continued to have problems with blood pressure and developed a blood clot in his leg. Wednesday afternoon, I received a call from the facility saying he was being taken to the hospital for a low hemoglobin count; I talked to my dad and said he was okay; I told him about the Eaton trade and he was happy the Sox decided to finally rebuild. We ended the call by saying we loved each other. I continued with my work shift until my brother said that he had been moved to ICU; he was bleeding from the rectum at a high amount. I left my job in the Aurora area to drive to Christ Hospital to visit him. I arrived around 9pm and sat with my mom and brother, receiving updates about blood transfusions, scoping his digestive system, and preparing for a possible surgery. At 1130pm, we were told his heart had stopped from the constant blood loss; a few minutes later, we were told his heart remained stopped and his brain was for all purposes dead. We asked for the doctors to cease attempts to restart his heart. He died at approximately 1155pm, December 7, 2016.
He was my best friend; Paul was a loving father, husband, grandfather. He always was kind and considerate to everyone, never asking for anything but always giving all he had to his family.
Always tell the ones you care about that you love them because you never know when you get to hear their voice that last time.
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Sherman remarked, "Well, Grant, we've had the devil's own day, haven't we?" Grant looked up. "Yes," he replied, followed by a puff. "Yes. Lick 'em tomorrow, though."
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