(no subject)
It's been a year since I got the telephone call that ended a friendship of almost thirty years. I still have a hard time thinking that Zog is dead, that he committed suicide, that he didn't tell any of us that he was in so much pain.
There are very few days that go by at my house where I don't think of him. I have more reminders of him in my house than I do of my own father. There's the canister of 35mm film I was going to mail him. The Buzz Lightyear toy he bought me (after my soon-to-be ex-husband bought me one, then broke it). The Gatchaman patch he made for me. The books he sent me. The pillow he sewed for me, and the robot toy I was going to mail him. The talking Stitch he sent me (because he loved that I had one talking Stitch, and he went out and bought his own, but the tone range of his voice was too deep for Stitch to 'hear' and react to, so he took it back and bought the other talking Stitch, activated by touch. Then he decided I needed one, too). The Robin Hood plush he sent me for a wedding present - along with a horkin' big knife. My copies of Robert Aspirin's Myth Adventures! novels, because I have the one with the cover by Kelly Freas, who told Zog that he was the inspiration for one of the people portrayed there. Of course, I made Zog laugh long and deep over my comment that he sounded exactly what I imagined Aahz sounding like, especially since he and Aspirin had once been friends. I have articles from magazines I wanted to send him, and somewhere, in my photographs, there are pictures of sitting in front of tombstones with our last names on them. It felt so weird making cookies this year, and knowing we weren't going to be sending a big batch of them to Wisconsin for him.
I'd actually heard of him some time before I met him. cajunshewolf knew him waaaaay back when in Chicago, and she'd talked about that group of people to me. x_expat and I met another of his friends at World Con '86. Some time later, years later, Zog and I were talking, and he mentioned a guy with a logo I recognized - "Hey, that's Mark!" "You know Mark?" "Yeah, we met at World Con!"
I always knew, whatever decision I made, he'd do whatever he could to help me out.
I miss this man. I'm angry at him, too, for a variety of reasons I won't go into here, because they're personal. His suicide is one of them, yes.
I don't know the exact date of his death. I just know he was in enough pain to eat a gun. And I wish I'd had some way to know, so maybe I could've said goodbye beforehand.
There are very few days that go by at my house where I don't think of him. I have more reminders of him in my house than I do of my own father. There's the canister of 35mm film I was going to mail him. The Buzz Lightyear toy he bought me (after my soon-to-be ex-husband bought me one, then broke it). The Gatchaman patch he made for me. The books he sent me. The pillow he sewed for me, and the robot toy I was going to mail him. The talking Stitch he sent me (because he loved that I had one talking Stitch, and he went out and bought his own, but the tone range of his voice was too deep for Stitch to 'hear' and react to, so he took it back and bought the other talking Stitch, activated by touch. Then he decided I needed one, too). The Robin Hood plush he sent me for a wedding present - along with a horkin' big knife. My copies of Robert Aspirin's Myth Adventures! novels, because I have the one with the cover by Kelly Freas, who told Zog that he was the inspiration for one of the people portrayed there. Of course, I made Zog laugh long and deep over my comment that he sounded exactly what I imagined Aahz sounding like, especially since he and Aspirin had once been friends. I have articles from magazines I wanted to send him, and somewhere, in my photographs, there are pictures of sitting in front of tombstones with our last names on them. It felt so weird making cookies this year, and knowing we weren't going to be sending a big batch of them to Wisconsin for him.
I'd actually heard of him some time before I met him. cajunshewolf knew him waaaaay back when in Chicago, and she'd talked about that group of people to me. x_expat and I met another of his friends at World Con '86. Some time later, years later, Zog and I were talking, and he mentioned a guy with a logo I recognized - "Hey, that's Mark!" "You know Mark?" "Yeah, we met at World Con!"
I always knew, whatever decision I made, he'd do whatever he could to help me out.
I miss this man. I'm angry at him, too, for a variety of reasons I won't go into here, because they're personal. His suicide is one of them, yes.
I don't know the exact date of his death. I just know he was in enough pain to eat a gun. And I wish I'd had some way to know, so maybe I could've said goodbye beforehand.