So I was out of town for a few days. Had a good time--more on that later. I got back last night and went to have a drink and say hello to some friends. One of whom told me that a mutual acquaintance had died while I was away. It took a minute to register. I had just seen this person a week before. I reserve the use of the word friend for very exclusive company, but this was one of many barfly pals, someone I was accustomed to seeing once or twice a week for the last two years at least. I liked him. He always went out of his way to say hello to me. We'd shot pool together on a few occasions.
His death was shocking to me not just for its finality but because I learned a good bit about him that I had not known. He took his own life. And apparently he had sufficient cause. He was a skinny guy--painfully so. I had always assumed that, like many I know, he was simply doing too many drugs. And while he almost certainly was doing some partying, I came to find out that he had once battled cancer. There are many details missing from the account I've received, and frankly I'm not sure I want to know any more, but it would seem that he was faced with the prospect of dealing with it again. And enduring the pain that comes along with it. So he chose not to. I am sorry that it came to that. I hope he is no longer suffering.
The whole thing has made me realize how much I take for granted. I will never again be able to go to the bar where I would see him on Monday nights without being reminded of his death. May he rest in peace...free from pain.
