2009-06-01 - 11:23 a.m.

Monday, June 2, 2009

MY FRIEND TOM IS DEAD

I got the call early in the afternoon, on Monday, May 25th, 2009. An hour before, I had returned from a doctor's appointment. As soon as I saw Scott's name in the call display, I knew. I knew that my friend Tom was gone.

One reason I knew this, was because even though Scott and I are both friends of Tom's, Scott and I weren't close. No real reason for it, it just worked out that way. So, for Scott to call me, it had to be important.

Another reason I knew this, was because Tom had been living in a miserable world for quite a while. I had tried to help him. Other people tried to help him. I guess I just didn't have the right tools. I know, everyone says, "It was up to him." I know that. I know that. And it doesn't fucking matter.

For the last few months, I'd had my head buried up my own ass. Trying to deal with my own shit. And if only I had paid more attention, then maybe, maybe Tom would still be alive. If he'd ever actually said the word "suicide" to me, I would have listened, I would have been there. But he didn't. And he didn't do that for lots of reasons.

After the last time I spoke to Tom on the phone, I told my husband, "It's like he's down in a deep, dark hole. And he can't see a way out." I didn't realize just how true those words were.

And now it's too fucking late. He's gone, and there is nothing I can do to ever bring him back. People say, "He's in a better place now." I wish I could believe that for sure. I try to keep an open mind about the afterlife. But a big part of me is afraid that he's just... gone. Nothing and nowhere.

Tom lived with his Uncle Buzz, as far as I know, for most of his life. Before his mom and grandmother died, they all lived in the same house. After his mom had died, it was just him and Uncle Buzz.

Uncle Buzz had people looking after him his whole life. He got the nickname "Buzz" or "Buzzy" because even when he was a teenager, he would come home, after walking all day, stuck all over with buzz burrs. He never had a job, or any real responsibility as far as I know - other than looking after the family dog.

I have no idea what mental condition Uncle Buzz has. All I know is, he isn't all there. He likes to walk. He smokes. He likes to drink tea. And he loved to look after Mindy, the poodle. Oh, and he's very hard of hearing. I think something must have happened to his hearing aid, I haven't seen him wear it for at least a year.

About 3 years ago, Buzzy started having problems with a hernia. He had to have an operation. Tom had to hound medical professionals time after time, until Buzzy finally had an operation about a year later. However, then Uncle Buzz needed a catheter. This was supposed to be temporary. Then he had another operation (to fix whatever the first one didn't) about 3 months ago. I think this one had better results.

The thing is, Tom had to bring in the money, pay bills, cook, and clean. As far as I can tell, even when Buzzy was physically well, he could not, or did not, help with any of those things. When Buzzy became ill, he was in a lot of pain. This was a lot for Tom to handle by himself, but he did.

Tom tried to let Buzz know that he was getting burned out. He sat him down several times, and told Buzz that he would have to go into a senior citizen’s home. Buzz refused. Every single damn time, he would get upset and refuse.

Tom told me about how one time, they were driving in Tom’s car. And Tom had to turn around, so he pulled into the driveway of one of the assisted living centres in town. Uncle Buzz immediately got very upset, asking if Tom was going to leave him there. He said that one of his friends (name escapes me) lived there, and that he hated it.

In spite of Buzz’s refusal to go into a home, where qualified people would be available 24/7 to look after him, Tom tried anyway. He spoke to people at various provincial and city agencies over the phone. They all told him two things:

1) Even if Buzz wanted to go, he would be put on a 2 year waiting list.

2) Because Buzz did not want to go, they refused to take him in. Personally, I think Buzz should have been given some kind of mental aptitude test. At least that would have shown them what Tom was dealing with.

See, sometimes Tom would walk into the kitchen, and see that a stove element had been left on, cherry-red-hot. He had now way of knowing how long. This caused him a lot of stress. I mean, a fire could have broken out.

Uncle Buzz does not know the meaning of the word “quiet”. I guess this is understandable, considering his hearing impairment. Plus, his mental fogginess. Combine that with the fact that Buzz had to go to the bathroom many times a night, and Tom couldn’t sleep. The clumping up and down the stairs. The TV on at all hours.

Then there was Mindy. Mindy is a sweet little mini poodle. She is at least 11 years old, by my estimation. Sometime in the last year or two, Mindy developed Cushings disease. Plus, she had some kind of bowel obstruction. This meant that she needed to pee, a lot. Often times, she would end up peeing on the floor, simply because Tom couldn’t take her out while he was sleeping. (Or trying to sleep, I should say.) When Tom was a child, his nose somehow got broken. This impaired his ability to smell.

The last 6 times I walked into Tom’s house, the stench smacked me in the face. I had to breathe through my mouth, and even that didn’t help much.

I told him he should get the carpets ripped out, at least. Laminate is much easier to clean. But Tom just couldn’t do it, for one reason or another. I suspect he was too embarrassed to have workmen come into his home. Both Tom and Buzz are pack-rats, and there is a lot of junk in the house.

I gave Tom advice, even when he didn’t ask me for it. I told him to talk to my Dad about getting a Power of Attorney over Buzz. I told him to get a FOR SALE sign on the lawn, because otherwise, Buzz apparently just would not understand the stress Tom was under.

Caregiver burnout. That’s what they call it. And it killed Tom. It literally killed him. He is dead. He is never coming back.

I don’t understand a lot of things. I’d like to see the M.E.’s report. Apparently, Tom cut his own throat. That method of suicide, from the little I can learn about the statistics, is very rare. As far as I know, there was no note.

I find it very hard to believe that Tom would kill himself without a note. Then again, maybe he was in such distress that…………..

Tom died on a Sunday night. He and Scott were supposed to get together the next morning. Scott called Tom that Monday morning, and the phone was answered by the RCMP.

And then Scott stepped up, and he took care of everything. Just like Tom knew he would. If that was his intention.

I can believe that. I just… to me, there is still the possibility of foul play. Yes, I selfishly NEED CLOSURE.

Tom had problems with his next-door neighbour for years. Tom, one of the nicest, gentlest people I ever met, called the guy, “that Asshole.” The neighbour is an alcoholic, and he gets angry and rude when he drinks. He owns a dog that he used to abandon tied up outside. (Tom did talk to him about that several times, and finally he stopped that.)

This guy was rude to Tom on many occasions, and I know that he told me at least once that he almost came to blows with the guy. This from Tom… well, trust me. Something like that was almost unheard of from Tom.

Asshole was interested in buying Tom’s house. Tom was never, ever going to sell to him. So, there is that.

Then, well… This next bit is hard to say. But it’s true.

Tom has been single for almost as long as I’ve known him. That’s…. at least 13 years. I think he may have dated here and there, in that period of time. But never a serious girlfriend, and the dating didn’t last for long. Let’s be realistic. They would find out that he lived with his almost-deaf uncle, and then if they saw the place… They probably ran away. Sucks, but it’s true.

I think there is a small chance that Tom had brought a prostitute home with him. Possibly for the first time. I don’t know. I WANT TO READ THE DAMN POLICE REPORT. I won’t know for sure until then.

Scott told me that the memory on Tom’s cordless phone was wiped. Not only were all calls to the house erased, but also, any phone numbers that would have been recorded in an internal phone book. What the fuck?

I can’t write about the position of the body and the state of Tom’s clothing. Especially since I heard about it second hand. Let’s just say that I find it all very strange.

I know the most likely thing is that he killed himself. I can see all the reasons why that would be true. I just want to eliminate any other possibility. Right now I’m stuck.

My parents actually think it’s possible that Buzz killed Tom. That maybe when Tom was sleeping, Buzz slashed his throat with a knife. I don’t know what to think of that theory. If the police tried to question him, I’m sure they had a hard time.

I have my doubts about how hard the police looked into this. From what I can piece together, Buzz found Tom’s body on Sunday night. Buzz called the cops. Then Scott called Tom, and then he went to Tom’s house.

After he questioned the police and Buzz, Scott called me and other people. My husband and I arrived at Tom’s house at about 8 or 9pm on Monday night. There was no police tape, inside or outside of the house. There was no evidence that the police had been there at all, except for a business card in the living room. The cops had told Scott that he had to stay the night with Buzz, until new living arrangements could be made in the morning.

Buzz was obsessed, that night and the next day, with breaking into the house safe. And the locked trunk in the living room. We asked him what he was searching for. He would mumble in reply.

Scott told me that Buzz was convinced that Tom had been hiding large amounts of money. Said that he had been “stingy with it.” The truth, as far as I can tell, is that Tom didn’t have a lot of cash. He couldn’t work that much, because someone had to be there most of the time, to make sure Buzz didn’t burn the house down. The bulk of the value of Tom’s estate is in the property value of the house. I’d venture to say that is the entire value.

I think it’s possible that the police have been negligent. But I won’t really know unless I see the M.E.’s report. And I don’t have the right to ask for it. I’m not a family member. I’m just a friend. Scott is the only one, outside of family, who has access to the investigating officer. I still feel uncomfortable asking him to let me see any official documents.

Scott knew Tom a lot longer than me. And he’s had to take on a lot of responsibility. Everyone was shocked by Tom’s death. He had to call everyone, including Tom’s cold and distant relatives. (Literally distant, none of them live in this province.) He had to make sure that Tom’s executor came here in time. He had to make the memorial arrangements. I know Scott is a boil of emotions inside.

Everyone else was too broken up to speak at Tom’s memorial. Scott was the only one to do it. And I loved what he had to say. He cried at the podium.

I can’t badger him about this. I don’t know what to do.

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