Patrick Eason had just celebrated his 49th birthday about a week before he was brutally murdered in his own home by a former co-worker he was trying to help out by letting him stay at his house to "get back on his feet again." Police can still only estimate a date of death for Patrick, he was so brutally and visciously beaten in the head with what police say was probably a hammer and a baseball bat. That plus the fact it was May in Texas, and Patricks electricity had been off for about two weeks when he was found. Police can only guesstimate he had been dead about a week when he was found. It took 47 specialists to piece back together what remained of Patricks skull. It took them almost two weeks to 'fix' him up enough that he could be identified. Patrick was a very good friend of mine, He never hurt anyone, and certainly did not deserve such a fate. I miss him terribly every day, still so hard to believe it is all true, that my friend Patrick is gone forever. It is so unfair, it hurts so much still to even think about the pain he must have gone through, and I think about it all the time. It makes me sick at my stomach to realize this is all real, somehow, and not just a very bad dream. The more I think about it, the sicker I get, literally spending hours a day positioned carefully in the bathroom as I keep exploding at both ends. Guess I just can't handle it all, he was one of my best friends, the murderer actually stayed 5 days in my apartment with me, though I'd barely known him(that was before Patrick was murdered).
The last two times I saw my friend, Patrick, was just days before his death, yet I was upset with him, and didn't even speak to him. I will never forgive myself for that. I wasn't mad at Patrick, just hurt and confused. But now he will never know that. I will never get the chance to tell him how special he was to me, and how much his friendship meant in my life.
Patrick was a good and caring man. But he was deeply hurt and confused about much in his life, and unfortunately I don't think Patrick liked himself very much.
Patrick would come visit me at any/all hours of the day or night, and that was O.K. with me. He, like I, was just lonely and needed a friend to talk to, a friend to hold him while he sobbed. Many times we both sobbed together. He was lost, hurting, and trying to get his life back on track at the time of his murder. Patrick, my friend, I know your body is now dead, but your memory and your spirit will continue to live on in my heart and soul forever. Farewell, my friend, until we meet again.
Your friend always,