This summer I met this odd, older man at Hometown. The guy was my mother's age, never married, never procreated, never dated anyone.
At first, I was irritated by him, having no idea about his life. I found him odd because he avoided people, avoided eye-contact.. but was fascinated by these three sisters who are 15, 17, and 19 years old. Men would mention how he was looking to make a wife out of one of the three girls, and he would laugh... but agree, wholeheartedly.
This irritated me, because I thought he was just a perverted old man... typical man from Hometown. I'm not too keen on these men.
However, I continued observing this man, and his interactions with others. I quickly noted he was... well, mentally deficient somehow. He seemed to be suffering from some sort of arrested development... I'd say at a ten to twelve year old level.
He was kind, he was polite, he was religious... he was shy.
He greeted others while looking at the ground, but smiling... blushing.
It made my heart hurt. So much.
He was a ten year old boy, forever trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.
When he'd see the girls--the three sisters-- he would pause, look up, and blow a kiss at each one. He would gently kiss his right hand, and even gentler "throw" the kiss at the first girl, then direct his full attention to the second, do the same for the second girl, and the same ritual for the third girl. He would then continue walking to where ever he was headed. No words spoken, no attempt at getting closer to girls... just... that weird blowing of his kiss.
Mom then told me his story, his lonely, sad story... and I felt horrible for ever passing such harsh judgement on the guy.
He was gentle. He was kind. He was simple. He was... he was a kid.
They found his tortured body today in Hometown.
He was tied up, throat slit, buried by the river-- his right hand the only thing sticking out... frozen by the river. He had been buried there for about a week.
He was murdered by someone he thought was his friend. A fucking monster who had been his neighbor for over thirty years. A motherfucking piece of garbage.
I think about his life-- his quiet, sad, lonely, simple life... and I want to cry. My heart breaks.
I think of how horrible his last minutes must have been... what was running through his head... the horror of seeing this guy you grew up with be the one who is going to betray you in the worst way, HURT you in the worst way.
Why? He did nothing... hurt no one... OFFENDED no one.... WHY hurt him like this? Why him? He was kind, gentle... simple. He was a gentle soul... a special needs soul... and he met his end worse than... shit, you don't even slaughter pigs that way.
He was in Hometown because it's supposed to be safer... no one there is supposed to hurt you, they all know you, they all care for you. It's supposed to be better there than in a "special needs" home. It's a close-knit community of few people who may be gossip-machines, but definitely take care of those in need.
We are all stunned. We are all furious.
I hope he didn't suffer. I hope he wasn't scared. I hope he didn't suffer.
I hope he wasn't scared.
At first, I was irritated by him, having no idea about his life. I found him odd because he avoided people, avoided eye-contact.. but was fascinated by these three sisters who are 15, 17, and 19 years old. Men would mention how he was looking to make a wife out of one of the three girls, and he would laugh... but agree, wholeheartedly.
This irritated me, because I thought he was just a perverted old man... typical man from Hometown. I'm not too keen on these men.
However, I continued observing this man, and his interactions with others. I quickly noted he was... well, mentally deficient somehow. He seemed to be suffering from some sort of arrested development... I'd say at a ten to twelve year old level.
He was kind, he was polite, he was religious... he was shy.
He greeted others while looking at the ground, but smiling... blushing.
It made my heart hurt. So much.
He was a ten year old boy, forever trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.
When he'd see the girls--the three sisters-- he would pause, look up, and blow a kiss at each one. He would gently kiss his right hand, and even gentler "throw" the kiss at the first girl, then direct his full attention to the second, do the same for the second girl, and the same ritual for the third girl. He would then continue walking to where ever he was headed. No words spoken, no attempt at getting closer to girls... just... that weird blowing of his kiss.
Mom then told me his story, his lonely, sad story... and I felt horrible for ever passing such harsh judgement on the guy.
He was gentle. He was kind. He was simple. He was... he was a kid.
They found his tortured body today in Hometown.
He was tied up, throat slit, buried by the river-- his right hand the only thing sticking out... frozen by the river. He had been buried there for about a week.
He was murdered by someone he thought was his friend. A fucking monster who had been his neighbor for over thirty years. A motherfucking piece of garbage.
I think about his life-- his quiet, sad, lonely, simple life... and I want to cry. My heart breaks.
I think of how horrible his last minutes must have been... what was running through his head... the horror of seeing this guy you grew up with be the one who is going to betray you in the worst way, HURT you in the worst way.
Why? He did nothing... hurt no one... OFFENDED no one.... WHY hurt him like this? Why him? He was kind, gentle... simple. He was a gentle soul... a special needs soul... and he met his end worse than... shit, you don't even slaughter pigs that way.
He was in Hometown because it's supposed to be safer... no one there is supposed to hurt you, they all know you, they all care for you. It's supposed to be better there than in a "special needs" home. It's a close-knit community of few people who may be gossip-machines, but definitely take care of those in need.
We are all stunned. We are all furious.
I hope he didn't suffer. I hope he wasn't scared. I hope he didn't suffer.
I hope he wasn't scared.
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