Another note written originally on Facebook. Please wear something black or purple while reading this blog/eulogy:
For any of my friends who witnessed (via Facebook) the Paulson Family Science Experiment of February 2011, I dedicate the following eulogy to you. And I thank you for joining me in mourning my friend Mat. May he rest in peace.
"Dear Mat,
Today we honor your life, and we gather virtually to pay our respects to you, our long-time family friend. As much as it pains me to say goodbye to you today, I feel it is my duty, as I believe I knew and appreciated you the most. You've been part of the Paulson household for over 8 years now. I can (sort of) remember the day I brought you home, swaddled in your Wal-Mart bag, snuggling closely to your buddies, the new hand towels, and lying peacefully under the coordinating shower curtain. And although I never knew your parents, I believe you were the perfect synthesis of them both. A soft, polyester blend that I assume came from your mother's side, and a tough, rubbery, non-slip layer that clearly came from your father. I knew you were born in the USA, as there was a little American flag printed on your price tag. It was obvious that you would be a special addition to our family.
Over the years, you were steadfast. Never complaining, even when you felt unappreciated, stepped on, or hung out to dry. Each morning and each night, you held your post, always at the ready to keep someone from falling on their ass as they got out of the shower. You withstood three potty-training boys--a feat I daresay could not have been easy. And then there was that fateful night in February when you were assaulted by the putrid stomach contents of your brother (who's name shall still remain a secret). More resilient fibers cannot be found. Mat, you truly were one in a million (or so).
As I look back over your life, I just want to share with our friends one of our last memories together. Not even one week ago, I spilled half a bottle of shampoo on you, after one of the kids left the damn cap off and I picked the damn thing up and it dropped on the damn floor. Did you cry? Did you wimper? Did you scream "holy shit!". No. That was me. You just soaked up the shampoo without a sound. But I'd like to think I could hear your giggles of glee when I threw you in the washer and you enjoyed an unexpected, and well deserved bubble bath. I threw you in the dryer. You always rolled with the punches. Gosh, how I wish I was more like you.
Fast forward to last night. Mat, I know it was my fault. I take total blame for your demise. Because, in almost a prophetic sense, I knew I should move you out of harm's way. Victim One (the same Victim One from our last story)told me he had a stomach ache. He told me he felt nauseous. So I prepared the bathroom and bedroom for impending doom. I put the toilet seat up. I got out extra toilet paper. I place towels on the floor next to V1's bed and placed the barf bucket in his arms. I left his bedroom door open. There was NOTHING between V1's mouth and the open toilet bowl. I swear to you, for a split second I actually considered moving you out of the way. And then my thought process was this: "Just in case Victim One has to sit down and go potty, and just in case while he's going potty he feels the need to ralph, I will leave Matt in place so that the barfilicious mess doesn't splash on the floor and reach my wall to wall carpet (thank you, Cory Christlieb and All About Carpet) in the hallway." This was truly my thinking (except for the All About Carpet part. That is a shameless plug for my friend's flooring business.) And, although I never would have purposely put you in harm's way, I realize, as do all great leaders of our time, that when you wage a war against puke, there are going to be losses. There are going to be sacrifices. And there are going to be casualties. So in the end, you, sir, took one for the team.
This brings us to 2:30am. And the prophesy unfolds. Unbeknownst to me, Victim One gets out of his bed, feeling very sick to his stomach. He puts the seat down and starts going potty. (Certain details eliminated here.) Suddenly, Victim One realizes that his top end needs to barf, but his bottom end isn't finished. So he proceeds to hurl all over you. Chunky bits of chicken nugget and Skittle deliciousness. All over your soft fuzzy coat. And did you cower? Did you wince? Absolutely not! You laid your life down directly in the trajectory of the barf and took a direct blow (pun totally intended). In the history books, your act will go down as an act of bravery, as selflessness, as commitment to the cause. We both know it's really due to your non-skid bottom, but really no one will remember that. You, my friend, didn't budge. And you, my friend, saved me from having to steam clean my carpets. God Bless you.
I entered the scene and surveyed the damage. Catastrophic, I'm not gonna lie. Now it is in these times of great trial and tribulation that a woman such as I would ask herself "What would Jesus do?" Would Jesus have taken you outside in the middle of the night and hosed you off with the garden hose and tried to salvage your life with several rounds of Tide with Bleach? And I thought about it for about 3 seconds and decided that, no, in fact, Jesus would not do that. Jesus would throw you out and go back to bed because he wanted to be at Crossfit at 5:30am. So, as tough as the decision was, I decided to let you go.
I shoved you (lovingly) in a scented trash bag, tied it air tight, and threw you out in the garage. And I believe in my heart it was the right thing to do. You wouldn't have wanted to live on, with those Skittle colored barf tattooes. He shared the rainbow, you tasted the rainbow, and frankly, it wasn't as great as they make it sound in the commercials. So now you're gone. And Monday, when the trash truck comes, you will go to your eternal home in the landfill just outside the county line, where you will attempt to decompose over the next 367,000 years.
Just know that in my heart, I considered you a friend. Quite possibly one of the best friends I've ever known. And I'll remember you always. Or at least until I get to Kohl's with a 40 percent off coupon.
And I hope that you will find comfort in the fact that I'll always have a piece of you with me, just as you will always have a piece of Luke with you.
Adieu, Purple Bath Mat. Rest in Peace.
Love, Amy
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