Reply to Re: The Passing of CocoMonkey
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Tim was a husband.
Rochelle.
This young, small, black, punk girl with a dog collar and spikes and music that sounded like a wild animal thrown into a jet engine showed up 11 years ago. She stalked my son and hit him over the head and brought him back to her cave (his words). And soon there wasn’t just Tim anymore. There was only “Tim and Rochelle”.
I suppose most young couples who are newly married think that their love is special. The word “soulmates” gets used.
But these two. They were something else. So complete in their sharing. So unconditional.
Tim would get so upset about the world not seeing that they were a couple because they looked so different on the outside. But he also reveled in those differences. He loved that they did not fit into the molds that society made.
They were as close to each other as two people get and talking to Rochelle is like I’m still with my son.
Rochelle, you have a fine family all around you. But you are my family too. You are my daughter too.
Tim was my boy.
We loved each other. As a Dad and a Son.
But it was more.
So many shared interests and experiences.
Comic books. A huge collection we amassed together. Conventions and shops and eBay and trades.
Books read aloud. Narnia. Tintin. Calvin and Hobbes.
Nintendo Walks. When he was little we went for many walks and we always had to turn the walk into Mario Brothers. Jump up and hit those leaves and get your coins.
Groo. A comic book that is a parody of Conan the barbarian that just made us laugh so hard together. Once we met the artist, Sergio Aragones (who has also done Mad magazine for years) at a convention. There was a long line. Tim was about 11 or so. When he got up there Tim wowed Sergio with his knowledge about the comic. Sergio is Spanish and he yelled “Thees Boy! Hee knows hees Groo!” Then he held up the whole line to sign a special poster, do a drawing, and pull out family photos of his dog. Tim loved that story.
The Orlando Magic. We went to games and talked NBA all season. Tim did not care about any other sport , but he knew as much about the Magic as anyone. He’d yell until he lost his voice.
I’ve been talking a while and I could go on and on. Just let me say that I lost a son. But I also lost so many pieces of my life too.
Once on a vacation, we for some unknown reason, decided that we would take turns and ask the same question in every store we came upon. We’d ask the clerk “pardon me, sir/madam but do you know where my associate and I might procure a fez?” It had to be those exact words. We thought it was very funny. But we didn’t know how to react when someone actually did know where we could get one.
Rochelle.
This young, small, black, punk girl with a dog collar and spikes and music that sounded like a wild animal thrown into a jet engine showed up 11 years ago. She stalked my son and hit him over the head and brought him back to her cave (his words). And soon there wasn’t just Tim anymore. There was only “Tim and Rochelle”.
I suppose most young couples who are newly married think that their love is special. The word “soulmates” gets used.
But these two. They were something else. So complete in their sharing. So unconditional.
Tim would get so upset about the world not seeing that they were a couple because they looked so different on the outside. But he also reveled in those differences. He loved that they did not fit into the molds that society made.
They were as close to each other as two people get and talking to Rochelle is like I’m still with my son.
Rochelle, you have a fine family all around you. But you are my family too. You are my daughter too.
Tim was my boy.
We loved each other. As a Dad and a Son.
But it was more.
So many shared interests and experiences.
Comic books. A huge collection we amassed together. Conventions and shops and eBay and trades.
Books read aloud. Narnia. Tintin. Calvin and Hobbes.
Nintendo Walks. When he was little we went for many walks and we always had to turn the walk into Mario Brothers. Jump up and hit those leaves and get your coins.
Groo. A comic book that is a parody of Conan the barbarian that just made us laugh so hard together. Once we met the artist, Sergio Aragones (who has also done Mad magazine for years) at a convention. There was a long line. Tim was about 11 or so. When he got up there Tim wowed Sergio with his knowledge about the comic. Sergio is Spanish and he yelled “Thees Boy! Hee knows hees Groo!” Then he held up the whole line to sign a special poster, do a drawing, and pull out family photos of his dog. Tim loved that story.
The Orlando Magic. We went to games and talked NBA all season. Tim did not care about any other sport , but he knew as much about the Magic as anyone. He’d yell until he lost his voice.
I’ve been talking a while and I could go on and on. Just let me say that I lost a son. But I also lost so many pieces of my life too.
Once on a vacation, we for some unknown reason, decided that we would take turns and ask the same question in every store we came upon. We’d ask the clerk “pardon me, sir/madam but do you know where my associate and I might procure a fez?” It had to be those exact words. We thought it was very funny. But we didn’t know how to react when someone actually did know where we could get one.
