Tim (Part Three)

Of course, actually meeting Tim was in no way a “Mongo” experience, and soon we were all laughing over dinner.  It was so good, in fact, that when our visit was over, we parted company with an unspoken “we should do this again sometime.”  Unspoken because we all knew the odds against Tim were grim, but not without hope, and like I told L’s mother on the drive home, “If anyone can beat the odds, it’s Tim.”

We didn’t hear from Tim often after that, but we knew we wouldn’t, so we weren’t really concerned.  We knew that Tim’s dignity precluded him from burdening others with his “day-to-day” problems, and that he liked to give news after the fact, like when he beat his alcoholism.  (Something he told to L’s mother without her ever knowing before that point that he’d started drinking to excess.  His girlfriend at the time got pregnant, you see, and she “took care of things” via an abortion without even telling Tim she was pregnant first.  He took that . . . hard, and drank for a time after that.)

So when a few months later we came across a shirt that was simply perfect for Tim (featuring a wrestling Taz), we just bought it and mailed it to him without hesitation because we thought it would bring a smile to his face.

And I’m sure it would have.


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