My thoughts on Paul Eells

Hello everyone. Welcome to the 40/29 Hog Blog! I'm Sports Director Mark Lericos, and I will be posting on this site quite often, as will other members of the 40/29 news team. We welcome all of you to join the discussion. Feel free to ask questions, post your opinions, and we'll have a good time shooting the breeze. So again, glad to have you... and talk to you soon!

Thoughts on Paul Eells

My grandfather was my hero. He was a part of the greatest generation, and served in the Army during WW II. More impressive, he was as strong as an ox and fit as a fiddle well into his 70s. I entertained the thought he just might live forever, sort of like Dick Clark. But things didn't happen that way. Early last year he was diagnosed with cancer and quickly deteriorated. A few months later, he died.

The sudden passing of Paul Eells, the longtime Voice of the Razorbacks, hits close to home for me. Paul was a colleague in the television industry, but also a friend. We sat together for many a Hog home basketball game, talking about everything but sports; our families, my new life in Arkansas, how I liked it here, how much HE loved it here. You get the idea. I don't claim to have known Paul for 30 years or that we had a long lasting friendship. The point is that he had a way of making me feel like we've been together for years. I believe that's what made Paul Eells special.

Paul and my grandfather, Ray Maso, have both passed away. Yet while death in and of itself is inevitable for everyone, the journey to arrive at that destination is unique. My grandfather was afforded about 5 months to realize his mortality was quickly approaching. He used that time well. He visited with as many friends and family as his body would allow. Those he couldn't see in person he talked to on the phone. My parents drove up from Florida to South Carolina that summer to visit me and my family. My Fauffy (that was my nickname for him since childhood) insisted on coming, despite his weakened condition. He knew, and deep down, somewhere in my mind, I knew also, this would be our last meeting. I barely recognized the frail man at my doorstep. The disease took it's toll on his body, but not his soul. So I did what any of us would do, I cherished every second. The hugs between us lasted longer, kind words were spoken slower and with more meaning. I laughed at all his jokes, even the corny ones. He played with his great-grandson. We took tons of pictures. And that final moment we had, as I watched him struggle to climb into my parents car and ride away, I smiled. I felt peaceful. And I wager he did too. About a month later, I was told about his final night on this earth. Living in a Hope Hospice center, he spent the night with his wife, she was tired and he told her to go home, he'd talk to her tomorrow. So she would leave the room, then come back and hug him again. She did this several times. Finally, they both laughed and he told her to get going already. Later, his nurse arrived and tucked him in, and sat with him. Then, he spoke these words: "I'm ready." He took some deep breaths, closed his eyes and went to sleep. He never woke up. All the tests, all the pain, the medications didn't matter anymore. He left this world on his own terms. He also left behind a lifetime of memories. His kindness, charity, loving nature, all of it will be unmatched by anyone. But of course I'm biased.

Which brings me back to Paul Eells. He wasn't afforded the same ending as my grandfather. One second he was here, the next, he was taken from us. I genuinely wish all of us would have the time on this earth to say goodbye to those we hold dear. I know I'd like to be able to do it on my own terms, and in my own way. Normally I would say what happened to Paul Eells prevented that from happening. But as I've heard so many times on tv, radio and in newspapers, even on internet message boards, Paul was the exception to every rule. He lived every day as though it were his last. Paul did not leave this world with enemies or unsettled debts, as far as I know. And really, that's all any of us can ask for.

My hope is that Paul Eells and my grandfather meet up, wherever they may be now. I think they would be great friends. They would talk family and sports for eternity. Sounds like heaven to me.