A phonecall..
Oct. 14th, 2001 04:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleetfootmikeThe phone rang today, around noon, while we were outside sorting out the breakfast room roof.
It was a friend: her husband, also a friend, was rushed into hospital unconscious in the early hours, with no prior warning of *anything* wrong, and died around 4.30am. He was, at most, 23, and they'd been married less than 6 months. She asked me to spread the news on mail lists we're both on.
I told my wife. We finished the roof, and then I kicked a football around the garden very hard indeed a couple of time, and went inside to send the emails.
I sat there for about 10 minutes in front of the computer, trying to figure out where I'd misheard or misunderstood what she said. It took me at least that long to convince myself that there was nothing I could have misheard, no other interpretation to be put on the words. Not that there ever was.
He wrote wonderful songs, on his own and with her. He would have written many more.
It was a friend: her husband, also a friend, was rushed into hospital unconscious in the early hours, with no prior warning of *anything* wrong, and died around 4.30am. He was, at most, 23, and they'd been married less than 6 months. She asked me to spread the news on mail lists we're both on.
I told my wife. We finished the roof, and then I kicked a football around the garden very hard indeed a couple of time, and went inside to send the emails.
I sat there for about 10 minutes in front of the computer, trying to figure out where I'd misheard or misunderstood what she said. It took me at least that long to convince myself that there was nothing I could have misheard, no other interpretation to be put on the words. Not that there ever was.
He wrote wonderful songs, on his own and with her. He would have written many more.
(no subject)
Date: 2001-10-14 09:17 am (UTC)