Tim Tim

Saturday, Jul. 26, 2008
It's been over a year. I can't seem to find anywhere to write.

I had to mourn Tim by myself. I had to mourn a boy I barely knew, but whose life had crossed with mine in so many ways. The first time I sat at Leamington station I thought of him, clearly having had to make the same journey over the years from uni. And then thinking of that headline. Train death, man identified. Then recently, at home, waiting for the train to Maidenhead I thought - Tim must have made this journey every day while he went to school, my old school. I probably saw him at school before I even knew I'd ever know him. Walking through the building where I first met up with him at uni, looking for a face I recognised from a photo, someone I'd joked about with my housemates before I'd even met him, I warmed to his huge smile and innocent looking face. A nice boy, amitious, works hard, thinks a lot. I read his blog, no one has blogs anymore, but he had one, and he had opinions, the kind of opinions that form while he was writing.
And I read them now and I think about the same things. I read them then, and I never commented. I used to hear his voice around campus and perhaps once, I may have said hello. He was too distant from my life.
I wish we had been friends. I wish he had known how much I really did like him, how much he interested me in his opinions and thoughts, how many ways in which we were similar.
What I find the hardest to deal with is that I don't especially believe in anything, I don't really believe he is anywhere knowing that I'm thinking about him, any more than he did while he was alive.
I find myself re-reading, analysing his blog entries... He even talks about suicide as a "get out clause" in his hypothetical analysis of reasons for being charitable. It's unusual. He never struck me as depressive. How could he be with such a big smile?

I still can't understand how it was suicide. I still don't genuinely know what happened, except for what I found in a newspaper article about a boy who had been hit by a train, identified as being a young man, aged 20, named Tim. I don't even know anyone who knew him well. Nor was I in any kind of position to inflict my mourning on other people -I'm not even sure I qualified as someone who was allowed to. Because we weren't really friends, I didn't really know him. We worked together on a few projects, mostly through email. Most of which I didn't even show up to. After one we were almost going to go out for a drink to celebrate. But it rained that day.. So I made an excuse. He said no worries, hope you feel better.

Every job interview I've had, talking about the events we put on, I've had to think about you and that day where I made one pathetic looking poster, but you put it up with a certain amount of pride. I arranged balloons with a girly colour scheme as my contribution, I think you just liked my enthusiasm. I was two years your senior and yet I wanted to impress you, I admired you especially for your age. I was amazed that you saw something in me to offer me a 'job' in your society. I wanted to keep in touch with you after I graduated, even just to see how hugely sucessful you were going to be. And you lived so close, I figured I'd see you again. I wish I had said something the last time I did see you. I wish I hadn't pretended I hadn't.

It goes beyond what I was supposed to feel. Sad for the family, his close friends, the tragic loss of someone so young. The hardest part is making peace with myself that I let him live and die without him ever knowing the impact he had on me. On everyone.

It's the flowers at a funeral issue. Shame they aren't around to see how much people actually did care.

Tim died in May. Rest in peace, I will never forget you.

damn girl | Tim

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