This may be one of the hardest posts I will ever write.
I found out about his death via the newspaper asking for family to contact the mortuary. I was stunned to say the least.
He was less than a year older than me. I had talked to him just three or four days earlier. By the time he was found his home had been stripped of anything valuable.
What sort of people would do something like that?
Having some real trouble dealing with this issue. He now rests in a military cemetery in Washington state. But I am still feeling a lot of pain about his passing. I knew he wasn't taking care of himself and I had sent him a phone so we could stay in contact. The last time I talked to him he told me that he thought he had the flu or something so I told him to be in touch when he felt better.
We talked several times a week. We were (and are) both insomniacs, so we talked pretty late at night for several hours.
I guess the point of this post is that I never tried to call him back. And I did love him dearly. Still feeling guilty about that.
He was the bartender of tractor parts.
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