The Last Word About Tim

This should have never been written

Tim Jones died Friday.

This will not come as a shock to you. Tim, who? Just another obit about someone you didn’t know.

Like all of us, Tim was an individual. Like few of us, he was a man with a rare combination of talent, intelligence, capabilities, and accomplishments.

His sister, Vicki:

“Tim could do anything, including but not limited to rebuilding engines, writing programs for applications, writing and publishing the novel Booth, designing and manufacturing foreign rifle sights, and building his own house from the ground up. He was a guitar-playing rocker from his days in high school and played some pretty cool gigs. One of Tim’s great attributes was his sense of humor and the ability to share it with others. I will forever have memories of laughing until I couldn’t breathe with him.”

They say “We all have to go some time”, but this wasn’t Tim’s time. Time and respect preempt the telling of all the gruesome details but…it needs to be said for the record that Tim’s death came at the hands of Big Medicine, the once respected profession, people and industry that was supposed to save him. Instead, they turned the Hippocratic Oath into a Hypocritical Joke.

Despite their indifference and malpractice, Tim had some time to pursue a remedy. Legally, the doctors and hospitals didn’t have a leg to stand on; every attorney said so. Every attorney also said, at best it would be a Pyrrhic victory. Attorney’s fees and court costs would easily run to 6 figures. Even with a Win, their attorneys would appeal ad infinitum. In the end, there was no way Tim would be compensated for his pain and suffering and premature passing.

Some would say correctly that the system killed Tim. Doctors, hospitals, insurance companies, lawyers, and politicians have all conspired to protect themselves from their failures that consistently and severely harm the ‘little guy’. Some states even have laws capping the amount for which the injured party may sue.

Guess what state Tim lived in.

We had talked for hours about the frustration, what the last attorney said, what the laws were; couldn’t they be circumvented in some way? It always turned into a conversational cul-du-sac, adding to the frustration where it started.

Between the dark, sarcastic humor we shared, Tim told me about his love for his daughter, Cori, and Vicki. Without Cori’s support, “things” would have been much worse. Our chats became less frequent because Tim wasn’t answering or returning my calls, no matter how brutal the message I left “at the sound of the beep.” Yes, Tim still said that; something else I’d rib him about.

I quickly got the sense those “things” were getting worse than Timmy let on and I should do more than leave comedy comments on his voicemail. Unfortunately, Tim insisted on living 2,370 miles away which made it impossible to just drop in. After another 3-4 tries, I finally got the call – but it was from Vicki with the news.

Frankly, I’m more angry than sad about Tim checking out. He was not in a good place those last days and, as they say, he’s “in a better place now”. I cannot reconcile that but if it’s true and it brings peace to everyone, so be it.

I’ll be over here, supremely pissed off and frustrated non-stop that Tim got this raw deal, regularly served up by “the system”. Tim wasn’t the first or last unless or until “the system” gets changed. We didn’t get here overnight and we won’t get back to where we should be overnight either. But if enough people who have Tim’s in their lives – or used to – write it down for someone, anyone, somewhere, anywhere; it’s the force needed to make it happen eventually.

I have strict criteria for calling someone “friend”; many acquaintances but few friends. Tim was one of the few friends I had left. Despite the sadness of losing him, I can be happy anytime with memories remembering my Friend, Tim Jones.

BW