It’s been a hell of a month.
I just found out the other day, after a month of not seeing him and nobody telling us anything, that the handyman who used to work for the house my girlfriend and I rent in, died of a heart attack. His name was Tim. This has fucked with me on a number of levels, so allow me to go through them, if you will. First of all, I am somewhat shocked that the death of a man I only sort of kinda barely knew could make me weep as hard and often as I have the last week and a half. The last time I saw Tim was when he came over and mowed our front lawn. He brought his sweetheart of a Pitbull with him, and I sat with his dog on the porch as he mowed the lawn and took breaks so we could talk. It’s not that Tim was very educated, in fact when once engaged in conversation with my girlfriend he admitted he didn’t even know who Van Gogh was, but that didn’t make him stupid. It wasn’t that he was super interesting, either. He was just…nice. I guess the fact that I cared so much for a man I knew so little proves the point of how big my heart actually is, and how much kindness can really make you care for someone.
Secondly, Tims death makes me think about my own mortality. Not that I’m going to die anytime soon, at least not that I know of, someone could be waiting to assassinate me, I have no idea, but just in the general sense, you know? I deal with suicidal thoughts often, I constantly have panic attacks about non existence, and yet…yet when faced with death so near to me, it sort of halts all of that. It’s been a while since someone died in my family, especially someone I actually gave a big shit about, but it’s also different than that. This is the first time a FRIEND of mine has died. Family is different. I don’t know how or why, maybe it’s because you’re born to that set of people or something, but death in the family just has a different tone to it. But a friend…a friend is someone you seek out or choose to know. They’re someone you enjoy being around and so you want to be around them more and more. I met Tim out of necessity because he helped us move in and fix things around the house and such, but…he was my friend. Even if I admit to not knowing him all that well, he WAS my friend, and now he’s just a dead guy.
Apparently Tim died alone. I mean, he had his dog with him, but he died alone, in his apartment, from a heart attack. A friend is someone you’re supposed to be there for, and I couldn’t be there for Tim when he needed someone, and that’s been fucking with me too. I don’t know that I could’ve done anything even if I had been there, I mean he obviously couldn’t even dial 911 in time to get help, but the fact remains that I couldn’t be there for my friend when he needed someone, and that….fucking….hurts, man. It hurts bad. I’ve lost many friends, but mostly because they either weren’t my friends to begin with, we simply drifted apart, or whatever reason you wanna apply to it. But to lose a friend to death…it’s just not something I’m familiar with and I don’t know how to cope with it. And what’s worse is it’s GOING TO KEEP HAPPENING. As I get older, the people I consider close friends are going to fucking die, and a lot of them may die before me, and I am not prepared for that.
I am not prepared for anything, honestly.
For Tims sake, I hope it wasn’t that painful or that long, and I hope he knows people cared about him, even if we didn’t outright say it. I hope he knows that he had friends, because everyone deserves friends. Everyone deserves to feel like they aren’t alone.
I’ll miss you Tim.
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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!