#death of a friend

[remembertheplunge]

Ken Southerland

March 23, 1991 Saturday

I met Ken Southerland at the Mustang Bar tonight. He was a 1962 graduate from Atwater High School. He knows my Dad. Said he was the only nice teacher. He said the other teachers bossed the kids—fear factor. Ken was still angry about that. We exchanged phone numbers. He caressed my hand. That was OK.

My margin note to the above:

April 29, 1991

Ken just called from the court house. He’s on a jury. It’s touching that he would call at such a vulnerable moment. At least as I see it. He tried once before to take me out to lunch, he said. My answering machine did my talking for me. Both times, I need to think and feel this out”

End of entries

Note: 12/15/2024

Both of my parents taught at Atwater High School (AHS) in Atwater, California. They brought my sister Zoe and I out here from their home in Lincoln Nebraska to start work at the high school in1959. I graduated from AHS in 1973. 

It was amazing for me tonight to fid this entry in which I first met Ken! I have no independent memory of our first meeting. The Mustang Bar which is now closed, was a gay bar out on 9th Street in Modesto, California. It was located in kind of an industrial area. It was a drag bar. Country bar feel to it inside: lots of dark woods and dim lighting. Owned by a woman named Shirley. She was beautiful, in her 60’s or 70’s and a gracious host.

Ken liked me more than I liked him, but we were friends for years. I do remember one evening when, while I was lying on the floor in his house, he sprinkled rose petals all around me!

On July 4, 2004, Ken was standing outside the White Elephant Bar in Modesto when a man struck him causing Ken to fall back and hit his head on the side walk . Ken died within a day from the blow to his head. His assailant was arrested and prosecuted. .

Huge tragedy. Ken was a hair dresser in town and a great guy.. 

In 1991, we had no" I phones". We had land line phones which you could connect to a phone answering machine. A person calling could leave a message on a cassette tape installed in the phone. 

[brawlite]

with the anniversary of x-files today, i've been thinking about:

i rewatched x-files after my top surgery and then fell headfirst into the (quiet but mighty) fandom for a little while. there, i found some new friends, some old friends, and they all changed my life irrevocably for the better. it was such a whirlwind of absolute love and fervor and inspiration and camaraderie in a way i'm not sure i've ever experienced quite like that before.

i feel so lucky to have had that time with all of them, to still have that time with some of them. my life is better for it, i am better for it. so hugely, unendingly grateful to x-files for giving me that time.

[problematic-poetess]

You were my person.

You are my person.

You’ll always be my person.

The person i could say anything and everything to.

You were unparalleled.

You were amazing to me in every way.

you were my best-friend.

You are my best-friend.

I’ll never stop imagining what life would be like if you were here.

I’ll never stop wishing you were here.

I’ll never stop remembering every second we spent together.

I’ll never stop loving you.

I’ll never stop missing you.

[ludojudoposts]

RIP David Leland - 20th April 1941 ~ 24th December 2023 🖤

[thelonelyrainbowguy]

Just found out that one of my favorite people from a Discord server I moderate passed away. I have no further detail. I was just thinking about them the other day and wanted to check up on them, and forgot like I always do. I didn't know them in person but they were so kind, understanding, helpful, and caring. I wish I'd known them better and I wish I'd said something when I thought of it, just to brighten one of their last days a little, whether their death was sudden or expected (like I said, no further detail).

Their screen name was LilWanderingPoptart but everyone just called them Poptart. They were multiply disabled and severely chronically ill. They liked to draw and play Minecraft and chat on the server. They were so nonjudgmental and always wanted to help wherever they could.

Rest in peace, Poptart. You're already missed.

[inkylizard]

Ghost stories. cw: death of a friend My partner runs a Blades in the Dark game in a homebrew setting, which shares with the core setting the storytelling element of ghosts. They’re  prominent in our campaign specifically; our gang sells drugs to ghosts, and as such we have a number of ghost friends and associates  They hang out in our base and show up to our parties. The campaign has had sporadic play, whenever we can manage to get a group together. We’ve been running for about two years and have had a mostly consistent group. We’ve discussed bringing in a few more people off and on since the beginning, partly so we might be able to get a quorum and play more often. One time our friend Sam joined us for a session. Sam has struggled with his mental health, going through periods of stability punctuated with delusional episodes; this night he was on new medication, and he was drinking. He got confrontational and disruptive and we ended the session early. The next day he was so apologetic, and we understood, and said we’d all been there. I certainly have. We debated about whether or not to give him another try. Some of us said we’d be less likely to show up if we invited Sam again, and we decided in favor of keeping the original group. It was an honest decision. it wasn’t the kindest. We play on Discord and Roll20, because we started during the late stages of quarantine, and kept the format.

And Sam just... never logged out of the Roll20 game. It would have felt like adding insult to injury to ask him to exit out. His icon has been there every session, ever since.

On the 23rd of December, Sam died. A digital and uncomfortably real ghost in the Street Spectres’ home base. I imagine he’ll remain logged in indefinitely. I hope so. I don’t want him to leave.

[popcornoncemore]

I am coming to terms with the fact that I'm going to her funeral. I'm going to see her family and our friends and everyone who has ever loved her and we will take time to remember her. This is good, this is healthy, this is devastating.

I feel a jolting sense of awareness that this is unfamiliar to us. At fifteen and sixteen, we should be spending Saturday hanging out, studying, taking a break. We should be talking about what to wear to a dance, but instead we are having discussions about what is appropriate funeral attire. We should be celebrating our friend's birthday today, but we're putting it off to celebrate another friend's life.

It is strange, it is uncomfortable. But we need to do this, it is important. She was one of us and we will be there to show her family that we care. I am heartbroken, I feel lost. But I will go to her funeral today.

I can't believe this is happening, but it is. And I'm just thankful that we are together right now, that I'm not left to battle grief on my own. This is our family, she is our family.

It is with a mix of horror, disbelief, resolve, love, and hope that I am approaching this. I am going to the funeral.

[mixedbag-o-beans]

Long Live hurts in such a specific way after a friend dies

[patrick47]

Dear Greg

[Greg (R) and myself on some forgotten peak in the Keene Valley Region of the Adirondacks. NY. Date: 1970’s. Photo is mine.] It’s coming up on a year now since you left me on the trail. You needed to climb one more mountain…at the time, I didn’t want another summit, but you had other thoughts. “One more,” you said. “Okay, but I need a rest. I like this little spot. There’s a brook over there…

[great-and-small]

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

[cahootings]

I redownload this app for one day once every maybe two months and unfortunately I’m rewarded every time

[carolineaross]

dawson,

there are no more i love you's

no more late night talks

no more driving with the windows down

no more doordashes in my car that you insisted on driving. i laughed at how big you looked driving my car

no more driving to mountain brook and seeing the snow

no more almost beach trips

no more late nights

no more early mornings

no more cuddles

no more hugs that wrapped me like a blanket

no more kisses (that made me fall to my knees)

no more of your booming bellowing voice

no more of your infectious laugh

no more of your jokes that could keep me up for hours laughing

no more of your smile that could truly light up a room

no more of your love and kindness

no more of you

[creamy-femboy-dilk]

Rest in peace, Will. My hope is that these last few years you were able to find happiness and comfort, as those things often alluded you. I will honor your memory in the ways that I can, through actions you that would make you smile with glee, or laugh at with amazement.

[symphonyofsilence]

Let the poor man rest.

[aberration13]

9anime my beloved, they took you too soon

[popcornoncemore]

I just can't believe that she's dead.

Her sister posted pictures of her on Instagram and it just hurt. I'm in the stage of grief where I just can't figure out how to fully realize this is really happening. That I'll never pass her in the hall or sit by her at the lunch table. That her family and friends are going through this. That I'm planning to go to her funeral.