Jims

Jim 1
The first Jim to come into my life was a true friend. We were the best of friends from the moment we first met. We played together, we talked about most everything. We could tell each other anything and be assured that it would stay between the two of us. He was always supportive of my childish ideas and moods. He and I would periodically escape to a world of our own that no other person could invade. For hours we entertained each other. I don’t know if I ever told Jim I loved him. I don’t know where Jim is now, it has been forty years since I last saw him. He may be hidden away in one of the drawers here in the house, Jim was a hand puppet that my mother made for me when I was a child.

Jim 2
I worked with Jim Carey from a distance for a number of years, he in North Carolina, I in Kentucky. I met Jim face to face on five or six occasions over the years and always perceived his warm and caring personality. We talked often over the phone; ours was more than just a professional relationship. The last time I saw Jim was several years ago when he and his wife Cathy visited our city. Mary and I joined them for an evening of food and entertainment, and wonderful conversation. I truly enjoyed his company.
A couple of years ago I answered my phone at work. The distinct raspy voice told me immediately who was calling. Jim called to let me know he was sick, a tumor had invaded his brain. He wanted to let me know how much he appreciated working with me over the years and to let me know he valued our friendship. About a year ago I called him to see how he was doing and at that time he was doing better.
For some reason Jim had been on my mind a lot lately so last week I called the place where he used to work, not wanting to impose on Cathy if the news was not good. A man named Mark answered the phone. I asked about Jim and his answer was “Jim died a couple of months ago.” I felt so bad. I had allowed our relationship to simmer on the back burner of life while life itself was leaving him. I will never again enjoy the sound of his voice over the phone or look of his face. I will miss him. I wish at some time I had told Jim that I loved him. Now, it is too late.

Jim 3
This Jim is my next door neighbor. Jim is a likable fellow, a true friend. Jim and I can tell each other anything. We have spent hours discussing most every topic. We have shared experiences in common interests. We tell each other jokes frequently. We share each others joys and disappointments, our victories and defeats. Jim and I quickly became friends from the day my family moved in next to him and Marilyn in 1989. Jim has adopted me into his family as a brother. Most brothers aren’t as close as Jim and I. Jim has a givers heart; there is nothing he wouldn’t do for a person in need.

It is virtually impossible for either of us to have a project going in the garage without the other investigating then visiting for a while. If Jim needs to borrow a tool he knows all he needs to do is ask as do I. If I need help on a project Jim is the first one there every time.
I love Jim. I think I’ll tell him that before it’s too late.