My friend Jack would be fifty today. He and Jimmy were my brothers..... we adopted each other when we were twenty and thrity something.
Each morning, I'd open the gate between our backyards and tiptoe into their house to make coffee. That way it'd be waiting for them when they woke up. In summer, they'd bring their steaming cups outside to share with me at my picnic table and we'd start our morning together. Our yards were small, but filled with love and nature. I had trees and a clubhouse for the kids my husband built. Jimmy and I both had lots of flowers, many of Jimmy's had been planted decades ago by Granny Shambo.
Jack had two kids and a wife. He was a hard worker, but also liked his Blatz, and he'd been put out of his happy home to go live with Jimmy. Now, this bothered Jack terribly. He loved his kids and missed his wife. So he quit the beer. But it was too late. His wife found another man and moved him into the house that Jack built! No amount of pleading could change the fact that Jack would soon be a divorced man.
He had a death wish after that. I remember one morning finding blood all over the kitchen floor and following the crimson trail to their front porch, where I found Jack on the davenport. I felt sick and afraid, but then he breathed and I must have jumped because he woke up and said. "I'm alive? F*ck!" He sat up and held out his left arm to reveal the long blood encrusted gash with a puzzled and defeated look. "I figured I'd just lie down and bleed out!"
"Honey, you were lying on your left side when I found you. You must have rolled over on your arm and stopped the blood flow! Want some coffee?"
We talked long that morning. Jack expressed he felt like such a failure he couldn't even kill himself right!
When Jimmy came downstairs and saw the blood, he got mad and told Jack to clean it up and never do that again!
We all went outside and no one went to work that day.
Jack started drinking again the day his divorce was final. Coffee until 11AM, then he'd crack open that Blatz. Since he bought by the 15 pack, he had plenty for the rest of the day.
Also, Jack brought his love of pot with him from high school.
Everyday he'd share his first of the day by opening his wallet, extracting a flat doobie and declaring "Make it round!"
He was a happy go lucky man with a heart full of pain.
When Jack started the day shift, he had to get a VCR so he wouldn't miss Kathy Lee. (He couldn't care less about Regis!)
He'd arrive home greasy from working on RVs all day, and before his shower, he'd crack open his Blatz, roll a fattie and crank up the VCR. She sort of completed his day, you know?
Jack was funny about his beer. He shared a fridge with his brother, but would take out food if there wasn't enough room to keep his beer cold. Priorities, after all!
Jimmy and Jack were brothers to the core, and sometimes fistfights would end with the ambulance taking Jack away for a few days. Eventually, he'd move in with some friends of ours, Lori and Chris.
Jack fell in love with Lori. To Lori, Jack was her best friend. Lovers would come and go, she'd tell him, but friends were forever. Though they remained freinds through the years, they never became intimate, and he remained lonely in love. But Lori and Jack were inseperable drinking buddies, and close as family, so it made sense when Lori moved, Jack moved into the apartment above.
Both have had tough times, losing their children, and they made a pact not to kill themselves. Lori honored hers.
Jack found crack. He changed. He no longer was a morning person, and he rarely had any food in his fridge at all, just a little bit of beer. His 15 packs were lasting longer, and he wasn't a jovial pot smoker. He was sad, so sad.
The crack would sometimes give him an orgasm of sorts. But he was always down. His whole paycheck was gone in a day and he was late on rent and utilities.
I'd visit him, and he'd ask me to make love with him. When I'd remind him I'm married and Glen was his friend too, he'd say,
"It wouldn't be cheating. I'll just pretend you're somebody else."
And he meant it, too! I'd bring him supper a lot, as did Lori and our friend Tabby. He would cry because he was so lonely.
He borrowed money from his dad for bills, but smoked it all up instead.
One night, he called up trying to sell his tools. Glen offered to loan him some money, reminding him a mechanic needs his tools. But no, he'd try someone else. He called a lot of people that night.
Lori figured he'd found a buyer, because he ducked his head into her door and told her he loved her as he walked out.
At about 3 in the morning, Larry from upstairs went outside to smoke. He wondered why Jack's car was in the drive and not the garage, but figured Jack was probably drunk and just hadn't the wherewithall to pull in. Larry entered the garage and lit a match. He fell to his knees at the sight of Jack hanging from the rafters, a half empty Blatz under his feet.
When I got the call, I fell too.
Happy 50th Jack, We Miss You.
I'll be having a Blatz today for you with your brother...
Cheers!
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Comments: 19
This tale's bittersweet; towards the middle, you write: "I remember one morning finding blood all over the kitchen floor. . . I found Jack on the davenport. I felt sick and afraid, but then he breathed and I must have jumped because he woke up and said. 'I'm alive? F*ck!'"
That part put a smile on my face. It came off as dark humor.
I've had suicides in my life. My English teacher was one of them. Not too long before she did what she did, I was in her classroom, making up a test. She didn't believe me when I gave her my reason for not staying after school some days before and doing it. To this day, I never believed someone as bubbly as her could kill herself. I thought she was too full of life.
You just never know. The only thing you can do is make the people around you feel treasured, while they can still experience nature with their senses.
Jack hung himself end of July in 1995. His brother, Jimmy was planning Jack's funeral when Jimmy's dog, Panther, got pneumonia and we had to have her put down. I will never forget Jimmy petting Panther crying, whispering for her to "go find Jackie." I hated 1995. Jack died, Panther died, my wonderful cat of 15 years died, Jerry Garcia died, and my friend Cosmic Charlie got beat up so bad he has seizures to this day.
I was with Jimmy most of the afternoon, and I did drink a Blatz and read Jimmy this story. Jimmy can't drink anything..... he has a feeding tube and is confined to bed from Cancer. There were three of us there toasting Jack and just hanging out...... Jimmy usually has a posthumous birthday party, so we wanted to keep up the tradition for him. I'm sure more folks will stop by tonight.
Had to write this, as it had to be released.
Enoch, I'm glad you got the dark humor there, as Jack's life was dark humor, you know?
I love you so much.
I didn't cry until just now. I can't believe it's been ten years. Jack's been messing with me all day. Keeps taking my cell phone..... grabbed it righ out of my pocket and hid it in Donna's truck! Hid it at Jimmy's, too!
Sigh. I think I'll go make it round as well and cry this out.
It struck me, as his funeral procession stretched so far up and down Market Street...... MY GOD! I was in the middle, and could actually not see the beginning or the end...... If he would have only realized how many of us loved him. But he could not see it.