You fucked up.
You killed yourself. Rumors are that you had health problems (of which you had told no one) or that you had money problems (big fucking whoop. One word - bankruptcy.) It’s not like you owed the mob, if you did have money problems.
Do you realize how many people you’ve fucked up by your death? Your family, for sure. But the night you killed yourself you went out to B and J’s. They were off playing darts and their 10 year old son let you in the house because he knew you. You were drunk and went to pass out on the couch. When he offered you a blanket, you told him to leave you fucking alone, twice. You were a better man than to curse at a 10 year old.
And before B and J got home, you left. You drove down the road, parked your vehicle, walked out in the pasture and put a gun to your chest and pulled the trigger.
The next morning B got up and saw your car out the window. He figured you stopped before you hit a main road and parked to sleep it off. When he noticed that the car wasn’t running he went down to help. But you weren’t there. He called the sheriff to see if you had been picked up for DUI and the sheriff said, “I need to come out and talk to you.”
Fuck you for putting that on B and J.
You didn’t have any ID so B had to identify your body. His 10 year old son keeps saying, “Dad, what if I had . . .” B and J were in the pub this afternoon, and B was drunk in his sorrow. J was as quieter than I have ever seen her. They are good people, Tim, and you have caused them a pain that will last forever. They were your friends and a some of the finest people on this earth, and now every time they drive down that road they have to think, “What if . . .”
And the day before you killed yourself you gave your wallet and cellphone to MD. Now everyone wants to know why MD didn’t do something (and who knows what the fuck he would have done?). When I left the pub today, B and J were talking to MD, and if B beats the shit out of MD, no one will step in. No matter what MD’s story, you’ve left MD with the stain of the guy that didn’t try to prevent your suicide. He doesn’t need that shit.
Buddy, if you’d reached a hand out to anyone at the pub, we would have helped. We take pride in the fact that we are there for each other. ALL of us have had our moments of doubt and sorrow and sat down over beers and shots and glasses of ice water and poured our heart out. If you had asked, the help was there.
So I sincerely hope that somewhere, you are sitting around with Jeff and Wes and Gary and my old dog Bob, drinking beer and telling stories. I really do. Because I miss you and I wish you well.
But you fucked up and were stupid. And know this - you set a first for the pub. Because NO ONE has bought a drink in your memory and no one has ordered a round of shots and no one is planning to go to the memorial service at the VFW for you.
We miss you, but the words to describe you now are “chickenshit” for killing yourself and “asshole” for hurting B and J forever.
Sorry bud, I will miss forever coming into the pub with my dog and you buying him/her jerky, but you chose the wrong ending to your movie.
Whistlepig