Suicide

Steve died.

My former roommate and old friend apparently killed himself two days ago in Germany. I can't verify it, but someone from Germany called his brother who told his mom. It sounded pretty half-assed and I don't think there is a known contact. I imagine the local police and federal police and US State Department and whoever else will be informed, and it will be verified and the body returned to the US.

Steve's mom must be mad with grief. And to not know even if he's dead, she'll just flail around between denial and anxiety and loss.

I am in complete denial mode, doubting it's true, wanting information and verification, wanting to know and do something, whatever. I also want to joke around but I can't imagine what I would joke around about. Like some damned doubting robot. Like some damned clown.

Steve was 'off the grid' on-and-off for years after I had lived with him, and had had a long stretch of drug use and a few problems with the police. Apparently he was on the lam for months, I heard Mexico, but I guess it was Germany.

He was kind of a shit at times in the middle 90s and after. I guess because of drug use, at least that is what I made of it. I don't want to romanticize a man just because he died. And Steve surely had problems.

But I must remember and honor what was good and true about him, that he was so dynamic and sweet, and could be so generous and warm-hearted. He was also obscene at times in a way that was simultaneously child-like and dirty, innocently vile, like the words hit you and you went "ugh" and then you laughed for the dirtiness of it and then laughed for the innocence of his expression.

I cannot believe he is dead! I searched some German news sites but nothing so far. I am sure I will find out more than enough and soon enough.

I have to do something for his mom and his brother, and for the friends who knew him so much better than I did. There will be a lot of grief.