I'm asking on behalf of my dear friend Bernadette, please consider donating to help cover the cost of her husband Tim Gillum's funeral expenses. Tim was so generous, he was always giving and never kept anything for himself, and his medical bills used all their savings, now she has nothing left to lay him properly to rest. Every little bit helps, and if you are unable to contribute, please feel free to share this with others, you will all be remembered in our prayers. Thank you for your generosity. God bless! from Alexis on behalf of Bernadette
From Bernadette:
Who was Tim? Just an average man who loved me completely and absolutely. He captured me by his humor. He made me laugh and his blue eyes would twinkle with happiness. He had such wit and repartees were astounding in their depth, in their humor but mostly, in their accuracy. He had a wisdom and gift of observation that would stun me, all the more so because he was an average man. He once observed that his advice wasn't taken because he wasn't a rich man yet everything he told people would come true - to their detriment in business or in personal life. He learned his wisdom the hard way - by living.
He loved his football team, Kansas City Chiefs and literally cried when they won the super bowl. His room was decorated with all kinds of KC Chiefs items: blankets, shams, pillows, flags. He had their t-shirts & hoodies and was so happy to meet other fans. He loved the perfection of nature and would take stunning pictures of flowers or a piece of wood and turn it into a work of art. He was a natural artist who was partially color blind and yet could paint marvelous pictures of color, of subjects, of nature. He loved to cook and was constantly looking up new receipes. Music - he lived for music. That was his passion. He would close his eyes and just drown in the chords being played or would point out to me the difficulty of a passage being played. When he would get me mad, because he was just an average man, he would play the guitar and strum out Spanish guitar music and it was magic to hear him play. He introduced me to the concept of fun because all I ever did was work and work and work. He made a trip to the mountains fun. He made looking at clouds fun. His artistic eyes would look at the colors of a sunset and turn it into a game. He made the corniest poems and jokes and would laugh and laugh and laugh. Every year he bought me something for Christmas that I didn't have as a child: a bike, a pair of roller skates, a doll house. He gave me the gift of Christmas. He would go to the store and buy me something he thought I would like.
He was my best friend. My companion. My confidante. He was my balance. He provoked thought and conversations would go on all day and then into the night because we didn't want to sleep so we could be together and just listen to each other.
Towards the end, my baby couldn't have his skin touched because he hurt all over. He couldn't hug me nor me hug him because it hurt. I could kiss him lightly on the lips but even his hair hurt. He couldn't walk, kept losing his balance and couldn't speak well and would lose his train of thought. That wonderful mind was failing him because of everything attacking his body, his systems. And my baby would still laugh. He was vibrant. He was alive and he was life. Please, help me to give him a proper burial and in doing so, give me a place where I can still go and talk with him, share with him as I no longer can. Please, help me and pass this around. May God bless you all.
