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December 23, 2020

Dear Paul,

One year ago today I remember waking up in a daze. I woke up at my girlfriend’s after a weird night of lightheadedness… quite literally I passed out and it was very hard to stay standing. This was weird because it had been about three years since I had fainted like that. Back then, I was living in a mountain town in Arizona so passing out due to elevation made sense to me, but this time occurred in Illinois so I had to inquire as to what happened. It was most likely due to not having enough nutrition in my body at that moment in time. Logical, right? Not much use in trying to make more sense out of that? But then I got home that night, one year ago today, and received the news that you were gone. You had overdosed in your apartment alone that night, and you slipped away. The non logical side of my brain likes to think that maybe my fainting was a sign that something was wrong in my family, but thinking like that is just a reminder that hindsight is 20/20 and that one year ago we were all too late.

It really was one of the most devastating blows any family could bear. Forget the fact that I lost you, my brother, so did our other brother, Steve. Our parents found their first born deceased in his apartment after a ten year war you fought so hard in. The mother of your child now has to raise that beautiful baby you guys made together, who may be too young to even remember what a wonderful father you were to her. Those are really just the cherries and sprinkles on top of this particular shit sundae. Under all of that, the entire community lost Paul Napholz, an amazing mind that stood out as one hell of an outlier.

The next day as our family tried to kick through the rubble of this aftermath, our dad and I decided to go out to the park and play frisbee for a little bit in an attempt to distract ourselves. We went out and it was just too windy to try to throw that frisbee well. I could see the frustration in dad’s face, which probably reflected mine, and I was about ready to throw in the towel… or frisbee, more accurately. But halfway through our game the wind died down and the frisbee flew exactly where we wanted it to everytime. It was exactly what we needed to not lose our shit that day, and all I could think of was you looking down on us thinking, “Jesus Christ, maybe I can help them out a little bit, these guys really fucking suck at frisbee,” and that will always remain one of my favorite moments with you.

Of course that was one instance of only a few moments of bliss we were able to find in that bleak dark time. There weren’t many others after that one. For me personally that month span was fucking hell between all the random bullshit that ended up happening following your death: our brother started experiencing seizures, our friend Julia and your friend Scotty followed you into the great beyond along with Rush drummer Neil Peart, my appendix had to be removed… and COVID haven’t even happened yet! This was all January! I think we maybe had February, the shortest month of the year, to get all of our shit together before a pandemic hit the world! The fuck, man?

Enough of this pity party though. This is supposed to be a reflection. Yeah sure, this tragedy left a scar. But you and Steve have faced countless other tragedies in your time but you never wore them like a sash. You both accepted the tragedy for what it was, and you lived accordingly afterwards.

So what did I do? Me? Mister “Look At My Long Reflection of My Personal Trauma”? I reflected. I listened. I learned. Then I repeated. Yeah, it’s not the sexiest routine in the world but damn is it helpful. Not only to myself, but in trying to help other people. Your “Paulosophies” will live on with your legacy and will hopefully carry on to those who listen to them through this dark world we’ve created for ourselves.

It was a prayer from you that brought me into this world, and I’m eternally grateful you brought me into this family. Thank you for the life you lead, thank you for that beautiful laugh, thank you for beating the shit out of me and Steve when we really needed it, thank you for bringing the love of playing music into our household, thank you for my beautiful niece…

Thank you for being you, because the world will never see a Pauly Starfox like that ever again and we all needed that.

I love you brother, and I miss you every day. Please keep watching over us, you’ve done an amazing job this year.

Thank you.

From Sara/Harold Washington College

I deactivated my Facebook a year ago and barely activated not too long ago. I saw a post about a bench for Paul and decided to click on his page and that’s when I found out the terrible news. I’m so so so sad to hear that Paul is no longer with us. I met Paul at Harold Washington. I had the pleasure of having him in two classes, and let me tell you, he was smart! He made the whole class with his amazing writing and just his personality. He had a lot of insight and I loved listening to him speak. Teachers loved him, especially our psychology teacher. I was so lucky to have met him, and when we first met he told us he goes by “Jeff from upstairs” he ended up telling the class about his neighbor and why he went by that name. (That was speech class, that’s where I met him) fast forward to psychology and we got closer. He told me he worked so much and was a full time student and at times he was so tired, but he always had an awesome energy to him. He used to work at sopraffina and I told him I loved their salads, so one day at school he brought me a salad from work. That’s the kind of person he was so thoughtful, kind, nice, funny, putting on a good face when he was having a bad day. He did share some personal stuff with me but to respect his privacy I will keep that to myself. I’m so so sad that I wasn’t there for him, maybe if I would’ve just said hi randomly he would’ve remembered why he was pushing himself so hard to be a musician and finish school, he always always mentioned his daughters, and how much he loved them. One thing is for sure he was a great dad, friend, student, and overall awesome human being. Rest In Peace my friend. I hope you’re blessing the angels above with your awesome music ! My condolences to your family and anyone who has felt this tragic loss. You are loved Paul, always.

Casey Marlin: January 2020

Paul Napholz was one of the kindest, most sensitive and caring people I have ever met. It’s as if he was born with his heart outside of his body fully feeling the world around him. This vulnerability was why he was so great and touched so many lives. He felt your pain, the entire worlds pain, and of course his own pain and still managed to prioritize the pain of whomever was in front of him. He helped people, he loved people, he wanted people to feel safe and happy, which is amazing for someone who did not feel that way himself. He broke the stigma that an addict comes from a broken home and isn’t to be trusted. Anyone who has met Paul’s family knows how incredible they are and how they fully participated in doing whatever they could do to help their son. Paul was the furthest thing from scumbag, and deserved more dignity than he got. I think Paul dropped in briefly to teach us how to navigate a world not currently built for such sensitivity, to help us prepare. We all know each generation is becoming more and more sensitive. We are a species designed to be fully dependent on community, and we need to begin embracing that, to help us heal and for the ones who are younger and just as vulnerable as we once were and still are. Paul did not die in vain, he is showing us something unbelievably important. It’s up to us to fully embrace his message. I am so grateful to have known him and know all of the incredible people from every walk of life that I have met through him. May we build the type of community he wanted and needed and leave no stone unturned. Thank you Paul, for showing us what’s important.. And for leaving us two beautiful little girls in your place. I think this is the richness and magic of life, the heart is meant to be broken in order to grow. I love you all so much, may we be healing together for the many many years to come.

Brenda: January 2021

I received this beautiful note almost a year ago. I’ve been waiting to publish the many beautiful writings that have been sent to me and put them in some sort of order while I wrote about his life. It hasn’t worked out that way. Every time I try to write, I need a lot of time-which I don’t have-or don’t make-because it’s very painful. Everyone keeps telling me that at some point I will just smile when I think of Paul and stop feeling the sting of him being gone. I smile every time I think of that beautiful person I was blessed with, but I still haven’t gotten past the stinging pain of feeling robbed of more memories, lessons, smiles, laughs-I guess just “everythings” you think of when you think of the next stages in your child’s life.