Tim Gage was a friend of mine…

My heart is filled with devastation today.  Tim lost his battle with cancer this morning.

A few years back God flexed his sense of humor muscle and allowed two stubborn and internet addicted people to meet.  Right here on this blog, Tim posted as ‘tg’.  It’s still there, on the psst… page.  From that point on, Tim and I shared emails and instant messages seemingly ’round the clock.  We discussed movies, friends, our mutual love for writing… we chatted about everything.  Tim could debate like none other as well.  Usually I’d give in and change topics, as I knew I’d been whipped.  I cherished those few rare occasions when he’d stop and say, “I’m wrong.”

Tim had a longing to be honest and logical about everything.  After his diagnosis, he confessed he was thankful it was him, but he worried about his family and how they would take it.   During his first round of cancer drugs, he appeared to be fine with the exception of the effects brought on by the drugs.    I was optimistic.

Tim called himself the world’s youngest grumpy old man and joked that cancer would run out of his body after a bit of time with his stubborn self.  And for awhile, it seemed to be doing that very thing.  The cancer progressed very little at first.  Life continued almost as normal.  And as things go, Tim and I stopped seeing each other.

Though things had changed between us, our online chatter continued.  The discussions went on and we merged back into a friendship that was nearly exclusively online.  But Tim was there, always.  Some days we talked for hours.  Sometimes there were only a couple sentences exchanged.

If I asked how he was feeling, I would always get a straight and often heartbreaking response.  His health was deteriorating, and his spirits were often low.  Tim spoke often of a depression he could not shake and while I did my best to encourage him, I knew the depression was ever present.

The week I left Minnesota, Tim had been in the hospital.  He was at home the day I moved, and I told him I wanted to stop by and probably give him an awkward hug.  Tim hated hugs. 🙂

About an hour before we had planned on meeting up, I received a message from his sister letting me know he had been admitted to the hospital once again and that he would not be there.  I debated stopping by, but Tim hated visits when he was ill more so than hugs.  I left.

Since moving I chatted with Tim very little.  He told me it was difficult to sit up and type and he felt weak all the time.  Our last conversation revolved around my new kitten and the cone she wore for her stitches.  Tim said I must have found a pretty nerdy cat.  That was it.  That was the last time I heard from him.

There will always be a last conversation with the people you know.    Never thought the kitty/cone discussion would be it.  He’s gone.   Right now I want to love so strongly the people in my life.  I want to squeeze The Max until my arms are worn out.  I feel as though I have extra emotions with no outlet left for them.

I wish for peace for his family.  They are a huge part of who he is.  He has two amazing sisters, he always spoke highly of them.  Amber was like everyone’s mother.  She is caring in a way you don’t see often.  She and April took care of Tim until the end and he was in the best hands because of it.  April was ten years younger than Tim.  She is feisty and smart.  She and Tim acted together in plays and it was awesome to see them interact.  I know how badly I hurt right now, and I cannot imagine how much they are suffering at this time.  If I could, I would want them to know how highly I think of them.

Tim was an amazing person.  Tim was an wonderful actor and award winning playwright.  Tim was an awesome brother, uncle, and son.  Tim was always so good with The Max.  Tim Gage was a friend of mine.

About kristiane

killing spiders with my laser eyes.
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14 Responses to Tim Gage was a friend of mine…

  1. That’s terrible. 😦

    My prayers go out to you & them.

  2. Sarah says:

    Tim sounds like he was a great friend. I’m lucky you had him, and he’s lucky to have had you and wonderful sisters in his life.

  3. Greg says:

    I am so sorry. I know what it’s like. Been there.

  4. Amy says:

    I am so sad. He was awesome. This makes me want to say swear words.

    Hope you’re okay.

  5. kristiane says:

    When Tim and I thought we were being funny over IM, we would copy and paste them, then email them to each other later on. I’ve been browsing through them throughout the day. One of my favorites, and one that ended up being close to home:

    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:26 PM): midgets make everything better
    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:34 PM): eating out, circusus, funerals…
    pilverkb (10:01:37 PM): it’s like a jingle
    pilverkb (10:01:40 PM): but you cannot say midget anymore
    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:40 PM): if there is a midget involved
    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:44 PM): it is all good
    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:51 PM): if i’m ever dying of cancer
    Timmy4ever79 (10:01:54 PM): i want a midget to tell me
    pilverkb (10:01:58 PM): Midgets Make Everything Beeeteeerrr!
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:02 PM): lol
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:04 PM): exactly
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:07 PM): its catchy
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:18 PM): if a midget told me i was dying of cancer…
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:22 PM): i would be sad for a second…
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:37 PM): but then i’d be all like, “ahhh…look at the cute little midget in his little doctors coat”
    Timmy4ever79 (10:02:42 PM): and then i’d rub his belly

    (I could write a very long and hilarious book with all these…)

  6. alek says:

    Your eulogy was how they should be. Especially since its lives online where your friendship spent so much time.
    I am sorry to hear you lost a friend, and I am glad to hear that it has heightened your urge to hug and love.

    May peace follow the hugs,
    alek

  7. O'Shea says:

    Sorry for your loss of a friend.

  8. Joni says:

    Kristiane –
    Tim Gage was a friend of mine, too. How lucky we are to be able to call him that. Our last conversation was about Sour Cream and Onion Tato Skins. I miss him.
    I just wanted to come out of Lurk-dom and tell you what a beautiful tribute this is, and how it made me laugh and cry at the same time. Thank you for writing it.

  9. Will says:

    😦
    I’m here for ya.

  10. DJ D says:

    So sorry hear that. I’ve been there myself and there’s not a damn thing fun about it. Just add me to the long list of people that are there if you ever want to talk.

  11. Jason says:

    That is so sad. I know I’m a little late on this. My prayers and thoughts are with you.

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