I met him about a year ago. And I wouldn't feel right if I didn't at least include that last year this time was among my low points in life. I had to return to Atlanta, after not finding housing in L.A. My relationship with my son was being rebuilt after my walking mistake of an ex tried to turn him against me through lies and all out kidnapping. I was first working as a pool monitor, later at bullying-prone community mental health organization that talked to me like a mentally challenged child. I finally secured housing, where I literally slept on the floor for the first few months as my possessions were scattered across the country. It was a dark time.
That's when I met Tim. We took to one another instantly. Our insult trades became legendary in the workplace. And even though I was exploring things with Theo at the time, Tim and I were always tight. At the job where we first met, I recall that one day I was having an issue with some of the employees. Tim called me that night to check in on me. I appreciated his friendship at a time where I was in an environment where I constantly felt bullied and blamed for shit that wasn't my fault. Tim was awesome in explaining that the toxic nature of the environment was unfortunately all too common. He also confessed to me that a lot of the women there were kind of jealous because my education and professional accolades meant that I was in a far better space than most of them. Not sure if he knew that to be a fact, but regardless, it made me feel a lot better about the situation.
I also admired how good Tim was with the clients. He treated them like the father that many of them lacked. He had compassion with the clients, even on his worst days. And these aren't just simple clients. Many of them had intellectual delays in addition to mental illness. He knew how to handle it all. It was like water off a duck's back. They looked up to him. He ruled with laughter and light. They were drawn to him, and although he welcomed basic friendly behavior from them, he was clear in his boundaries.
As we began to chat, Tim admitted that he was staying with some family and having a hard time. I told Tim that although my home was sparsely furnished and I was sleeping on the floor, he was welcome to crash at my place. At work, we traded jabs. But when work let out, he'd come to my home. We drank and laughed together. He brought a dog to work one day and was unable to care for it. I took pity on it, and allowed it into my home until he found a new owner, his cousin.
Tim told me how comfortable my home was to him. That I made him feel welcome. That when I cooked for him, I made him feel loved. I'd picked up that his childhood was painful and he wasn't accustomed to a lot of love and affection. I always treated Tim well. I had no reason not to. Tim confessed his feelings for me quite a few times, but by then I was head over heels for Theo (stupidly).
Even after Theo, Tim would continue to drunk call me and (justifiably) talk shit about Theo. Actually, when I began to tell him that things weren't going well with Theo and that I wanted out, Tim told me that I was just creating problems where there were none. When Theo and I broke up, Tim accused me of obviously doing something wrong. I'd had enough and I told Tim that it was quite condescending to assume immediately that I was to blame, in spite of him witnessing my dedication to Theo early on. Tim apologized, something I didn't quite expect. He also apologized once after he met my son, and asked if my freakishly tall child plays basketball. I later on explained how much my child hates that question, and Tim immediately stopped what he was doing and went to find my son said that he meant no disrespect.
As time went on, Tim continued to struggle with finding housing. I'd warned him early on that the person who was supposed to help him looked like they were pulling out, but he didn't hear me. Eventually, he tried to get housing with a cousin of his, another person who seemed like a shit show. He called and asked my advice on finding housing with her, but she was an irresponsible hot head. In the same conversation, he had to hurry up and get off the phone to stop her from physically fighting with someone. Tim asked me if my apartment had vacancies. I checked and they did not. I told Tim to take a day off work to look for housing and just drive from place to place. He didn't. I gave up.
Funny enough, after witnessing this with Tim, I created a dating rule for myself. If I give a guy friend advice and he doesn't take it and he gets fucked up, I won't date him later. I loved Tim as a friend, but his talent for chasing down toxic people and saving them, while literally sleeping in his car at times (while employed full-time) was just too much.
As time went on, time did what it does. This summer got to be pretty busy. Plus add on my grief of two beloved relatives, and I was pretty absent and barely holding on mentally in my own space. Certainly not much emotional support to share with others. At some point, I realized that I hadn't talked to Tim in a while. Whenever I called his phone, it went unanswered. Eventually, it was disconnected. I was again annoyed with him. That was the kind of shit I was talking about. How tf are you a grown ass man and your phone is cut off?!
I called Tim again, hoping he was well. I got an answer. Finally! I chatted with him for a moment and talked about things in my life, but something was different. His voice was dragging in a way that I hadn't heard before. I realized it wasn't Tim and I immediately hung up on the imposter. I figured by then that he'd gotten a new phone number.
I'd considered going back to the old job to check in on Tim, but I have nothing but disdain for that company, so walking in there could possibly get sticky (even though those greasy bitches owe me money). I decided against it.
Last night, I called an old coworker from there to check in. My plan was for her to tell Tim to get off his ass and call me! I wanted him to finally see my apartment being fully furnished, and no longer sleeping on the floor. I was even willing to let him crash again. I just missed him and his friendship.
As I talked to my coworker, I did the basic check in with her, asking questions about how she's doing. Like me, she knew it was a toxic environment. I heard that she'd been reduced to tears quite a few times, although I opted not to share that tidbit with her. I assured her that I knew she deserved better and should move on.
Eventually, I moved the conversation on and asked if Tim still worked there. She casually responded with "oh, Tim passed away in May" as if she was discussing the weather. What?! How?! My heart stopped. How could this happen?! She explained that the day after his birthday, he'd had a heart attack. I wondered if he'd had a heart attack from drugs, but I immediately remembered that although Tim drank like a fish, he didn't do drugs, not even weed.
My heart sank. My friend was gone. I thought back on the discussion he and I previously had where he'd insisted that he never wanted to be cremated, it reminded him too much of burning in hell. I said to my coworker "please tell me he wasn't cremated." "They buried his body" she assured me. It all felt so unclosured. All of the things I wanted to say to him, I never did. He never came by my apartment again. I'd hoped to advise him on the young woman he'd been talking about making his new girlfriend.
All I could think was another one. Another fucking person that I love has died. Not just people in passing that I saw once or twice, these were all people that I saw and talked to and shared my life with, on a regular basis. And they're all just dropping. Not crime, no accidents. The closest would be the fentanyl in Andrea's coke. Otherwise, it's all health stuff.
I recall a meeting that I'd witnessed between two older people as they sat and for a few minutes asked about and discussed the mutual acquaintances they'd known who'd died. And how I felt like what a strange existence that must be, to be able to rattle off names of so many loved ones so easily. I'm only 42. In the last 5 years, I've lost 7 people. Seven. Four since the beginning of 2022 alone. People I loved and talked to, and celebrated. All gone. I wish like hell that there was way to call "UNCLE!!" to the heavens and stop this, at least for a while. Just long enough to heal and make sense of it all. Working in hospice isn't helping. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to be stepping away from my current job, even though I love it. Exposure to too much death really does have away of making you emotionally raw. I'm good as long as I don't focus on it. But once I do...
I happened to be listening to the most recent Kendrick Lamar album today. I'm almost ashamed to say that today was the first time that I gave the whole thing a real listen. Kendrick really went there. He talked about therapy. Dear God, I can't wait to get back to therapy.
I got to the coffeehouse today, knowing that I needed to process and write. I needed to get it out. I thought about Kendrick's words and what therapy did for him. His words caught me and I barely kept myself from falling into a heap of tears on the sidewalk.
I grieve different.
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