Paul was my metacousin. My cousin's cousin: his mother's sister married my father's brother. Also, not a cousin I grew up with but a cousin I met. Later in life, I mean. Sitting with Kerol and Bonnie Hurst at Soho Books on Granville Street in Halifax and telling her "That guy that just came in? I'm pretty sure he's my cousin". She laughed and told me all the reasons he couldn't be, but they were the reasons I knew he was. At our mutual cousin's wedding Paul's brother, on hearing I was Haligonian, and a friend of the Sangha, had alerted me I might just run into him. He was estranged from much of his complicated family, so I was fortunate to hear this. And it was part of the reason the Sangha meant so much to him. He rubbed lots of people the wrong way—including Kerol—but I always enjoyed spending time with him. He and I and my friend John Macnab shared a certain perspective on geometry and mechanism. John just texted me: "...he had an excited curiosity about so many things. He was involved with biopsy devices of his own design. And so much more. I enjoyed meeting him...he was fun." And he sent me a beautiful note that I can't find, showing great insight from afar, into Kerol's spiritual awareness through her own passing, in spite of her mental decline. I met Paul for lunch just before he went up to DDL. He had grown a little frail over the years since we'd last been able to do that, but at peace and aware. Like all of you here, I miss him. I was so glad that he could die thoroughly embedded in the practice and the community that was so dear to him.