Sunday, November 17, 2019
I can hear his Mom calling him Timothy, I can hear Maureen calling him Tim, but to me he will always be Timmy... Timmy Hoch.
Timmy and I grew up together on Cambridge Avenue, two young boys coming of age enjoying a childhood of street games, board games, trips to the pool, bowling alley and the like...all only to be enjoyed upon the completion of his chores of course. He was always very committed to his chores and never really seemed to mind getting them done, and getting them done properly and without short cuts. I remember standing in admiration, tinged with some frustration probably, that even at that young age, Timmy just took things in stride, with minimal upset...
Why must Childhood be so fleeting...
One of my fondest memories of Timmy is not mine alone, but one that my wife Isabell shares as well...
Soon after I met Isabell, her father became critically ill and sadly passed a few months later. During those few difficult months I got to introduce Isabell to my good friend Timmy. We hung out, talked, laughed...
Then, when the time came, Timmy made sure to attend Isabell’s father’s wake, pay his respects and to support his new friend who he could see was struggling through a very difficult time...
So when Isabell made her way out to her car at the end of that exhausting night, she noticed the white napkin that had been carefully placed beneath the windshield wiper...
Of course, inside the fold was a perfectly rolled joint that Timmy had left for her...
That caring, gentle, unassuming and thoughtful gesture remains so reflective of who Timmy was, and who he will always be in our memories
