On 11/29/2016 my housemate, tenant, friend died in a hospital. He was two months short of being 64. We would have been living together for 15 years had he been around another month and a half. He lived in a tiny bedroom in the house and arrived on disability. Strange to take in a tenant on disability, but I knew that he had a steady income and I knew that he would be home all day. It's like having a watch dog move in.
Turned out he was a good cook. I even gave him the nickname Cook. So, as part of the roommate agreement, I lowered his rent for making me dinner every night. And he stuck to his half of the bargain.
Even though I had lived alone for a good deal of my adult life, I never quite thought I would miss him so much. I had inherited his dog and his cat. They have taken a shining to me over the years (probably comes with feeding them twice a day), and his room has been rented out to others. It's just that I have never found anyone who was quite like he.
I'll have to write more later. I'm not much in the writing mood right now.
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