Mumbles (not his real name) died last week. Some of you may remember him from this post two years ago.

https://www.rollonfriday.com/discussion/wtf-do-you-say-friend-who-has-been-given-daysfew-weeks-live

I was there when he was told he might only have weeks to live and if I hadn't been, I wouldn't have believed him, because even though he was within the broad umbrella of highly accurate Weird Asperge he was prone to exaggerated exaggeration when it came to his health. In most other regards he was very exact.

I knew of him by reputation before I actually started to get to know him about 15 years ago. The delayed acquaintance was because he very unambiguously challenged my former business partner to a fight, and he meant it. Weird Asperges in my experience of them don't call your bluff. So for a while it was diplomatic not to get to know to him too well.

As soon as I divorced my former business partner, Mumbles and I became acquainted. I generally like unconventional  people. You don't have to work them out. I prefer WYSIWYG. Their world is real to them and you simply join them in it, even if it requires stepping outside of your own somewhat. 

His mother died about twenty years ago, and he was irrevocably estranged from his father and brother. Apparently he hospitalised his brother as a child. 

Mumbles was single. The likelihood of him finding his soul mate, in his eye of the needle world, was negligible. He was a candidate for Undateables, the tragedy of it was that, had he found his match, someone capable of embracing his Aspergeyness, she would have been his princess forever. The kids would have been very interesting; but it wasn't to be and he would gently but entirely benignly obsess slightly about any lady who paid him the least attention.

I liked Mumbles. He was somewhat bonkers by any objective standard, but then I must have been somewhat bonkers by his. Who's to say which of us was right?

In our work world, he kind of reverse adopted me. He was one of the top in our field. I was a generalist working in a business where speciality really paid off. He had it across the board but would only ever do things his way, so he was always an outsider to the mainstream; who was inside and who was outside the goldfish bowl remains a slight mystery. 

When he was diagnosed with cancer he really struggled mentally. I organised carers for him. He cancelled them. His doctors did their best but his paranoia prevented anyone being able to help him. He was sectioned twice and it was utterly pitiful to see him in this bewildering state. He said he couldn’t cope and he regularly discussed suicide. I’d manhug him when I saw him. Hugs are innocent and good for you.

He told me I was ‘for emergencies only’. He called me on the occasions he was sectioned. I did what I could but he was beyond reach. 

I last spoke to him about two weeks ago. He sounded fine; was good to hear. 

It transpires that he shortly afterwards went downhill. He phoned the ambulance service incessantly one night but they knew who he was and had been called a hundred times before. I presume they declined his call or prioritised it lowly. 

Somehow the police became involved. They arrested him and then bailed him but critically confiscated his mobile phone. It was the excuse he needed, tipped him over the edge and he overdosed. He was found a few days later. 

He'd planned for this carefully: no formal funeral, just a private cremation. His will leaves the best part of a lion to a smallish charity despite his living in close to squalor conditions for as long as I've known him. I'm hoping they will name something in his memory.

There's no one else to tell, just feels like a story that needs to be heard.