Walking with Timm through his stuff

Timm's afterlife in this world persists in three ways: the memories we have of him and continue to share; whatever aesthetic legacy he leaves behind in his pictures; and what becomes of his stuff. This memorial blog has concentrated on the first two, but I think there's some rich loam in the third to grow this post.

Most of Timm's stuff -- clothing, dishes, furniture, books, TV and stereo(s) -- had seen hard use and ended up being donated by Christie to a couple of thrift stores with ministries to the poor. Given Timm's service, there couldn't have been a more fitting recipient.

Timm's truck went back to his credit union. It was a fairly recent acquisition of Timm's and he must have been ambivalent about owning it, because I found some pretty polished pictures of the vehicle on his laptop (including the one above) as if he was considering selling it.

I don't know what happened to Timm's trail bike; when we left the apartment for the last time on April 22, I rolled it in from outside into the living room. Hopefully it's continuing to blaze trails for someone else.

Timm's guitar went to his best friend Ken, who in turn gave it to his wife Dana, also a musician. I imagine the sound coming out of his guitar to have a blent resonance, partially Timm's and partially Dana’s, with a tide that ebbs in one way and waxes the other. That's how inheritance goes, I think: the living absorb the dead and make some part of the lost their own.

The family brought back East (to Pennsylvania and Florida) a few substantial things: his photo archives, laptop and Canon camera. I have the first two, though my mother has a number of his photos too. Timm's laptop replaces my 10- year old rickety iMac, coming at a time when I needed it most. All the new creative software is on this Mac -- I've also added InDesign and Interarchy (FTP access software) -- so I can work from home, yippee. Most important, all of my own creative files now share the confines of this Mac. When I search for files, Timm's come up with mine.

For the most part, I've written my daily verse letter to Timm using a pen I found in his apartment. I like it's heft and flow; the words to say to Timm come easily using that pen. How many words Timm wrote with that pen, I'll never know; but my words have a sort of kinship with that pen, as if Timm and I were walking together as I write across and down the page. (So much so that I'll probably never catch up with keying all the poems.)

Brother Will got Timm's Canon camera. I understand it when he says that he stays connected through Timm when he uses his camera. It's Will's way of walking along with his brother. I thought I'd include some of Will's recent pictures using Timm's camera in today's post.

The diapora of one's belongings is sad in a way, in that a center of self is torn down its pieces is cast to the tide of history, to whither where it will; and yet the parts have a rich afterlife, don't you think, still resonant with that brother and son and friend and lover who once walked this earth ...

(The following photos brother Will took with Timm's camera)

Will says he finds tree stumps intriguing and has photographed them over the years. This one and the next two are part of a study.

Will's wife Sarah with their Labrador Mia.

The camera reverses, now and then, to reveal the Photographer. Here's Will also with Mia.