Last year, readers of this blog might recall a series of exhortations to a guy named Tim Spry, urging him to fight.
Well, he did fight. Tim battled pancreatic cancer for 15 months and outlived every prognosis. Yesterday, he died.
He was a tree guru, a photographer, a loyal IIH reader, an old college buddy, a guy whose entrance was always proceeded by his laughter. He was a father. He was a friend. And he was a passionate Redsock fan.
I visited him a month ago in Pennsylvania. The fight was over, and he knew it. Doctors had put him on a morphine drip, so when the pain crested, he could push a button and get a jolt of drugs that were far stronger than morphine. The jolts sometimes confused him. You could see it on his face. But he would focus, and he would rally, and his laughter would resound.
Tim had made peace with death. But he vowed to never make peace with Manny Ramirez. Some of our best final conversations were about the Yankees and Redsocks. Imagine that.
Folks, this is how we deal with pain:
We rig up a button, and we press it when necessary. Sometimes, friends press it for us. Maybe that's how we forget our troubles when the world seems to pinch.
Anybody who knew Tim Spry will never forget him.
Note to Tim, as promised: If you get this blog in heaven -- (Actually, I hate to say it, but if you're getting this blog, you're not in heaven...) -- I hereby take back everything I said about Pedroia. (But not Schilling. I can't do Schilling.) I was just pushing your button. Thanks for pushing mine.
Posts
6 comments:
Nicely done.
Sorry to hear about it. I just knew that he was one of the good ones. Glad his pain is gone, though.
I just shed tears Duque. Great piece. I remember the last time you wrote about Tim, it was very moving.
Going in for wisdom teeth removal today. When I get out and am all high, I'll do some writing.
Hart.... Very sweet...Can't miss Tim's smile.....Thanks...Give "J" a hug...
The innocuous white post card came in the mail. Thinking it might be yet another piece of junk I started to toss it, when I recognized the name of the sender. My assumption was another Class of '69 Update from a fellow graduate named Mark who is determined to keep a long lasting connection between a truly diverse and amazing group of people.
Well the card was from Mark, but when I read it, my heart sank a bit into my stomach. Reading about the passing of a classmate leaves one with a feeling of vulnerability and "introspection time" creeps in.
The first two letters of Tim's last name are Sp. My first two are St. This means there is an automatic relationship, regardless of the level, simply because we spent 6 years sitting next to each other in homeroom. Tim and his high school sweetheart, who 20 years later became his wife in a most unusual way, wound up settling just a handful of miles from where my family lives in the beautiful Delaware River Valley. They popped in our family store one day, and we had a very enjoyable conversation. I saw them just twice after that. I'm sure if my wife and I did not have young boys at the time, we may have seen a lot more of them.
In a way he reminded me of Dick Clark- the guy never seemed to age! Look at the picture on this particular post. A caring smile and a Red Sox hat!
Oh how I needed more Sox friends around Lambertville, NJ!! You wear it well, Tim...
When I see "The Green Monster" I'll think of you.
Best always,
Dean
this is kinda creepy....my name is Tim Spiry-Barker.. O.o odd..
Post a Comment