My husband's very close friend killed himself today.
He was someone my husband met awhile back after I urged him to go knock on photographer's doors and offer his services for free in exchange for a little experience.
This man took my husband under his wing and paid him anyway. HWWV is now a photographer. Not a full time photographer, but a good one, one that works most weekends and also holds down a "regular" job, too.
Last time I saw him, he was a front man for a band performing in a dive in the Valley--he was one of those guys I'd call a Renaissance Man--and he growled and sang like all get out and played his harmonica. I actually even drank a beer while I hooted and hollered, making sure my wallet was secure in the crowded and smoky room.
I'm not going to be around today or probably tomorrow, either. Maybe even the next day. Girlfriend is running a fever, too, and we just need some time.
I didn't know him very well. Even so, he gave me joy.