I don't think about my dying much. Mostly I worry about irrational thing, like the pain in my leg being a blood clot, or the pain in my chest being a tumor, or the pain in my head being an aneurism. Tommy won't let me Web MD anymore.
In reality I spend more time worrying about Tommy. A month or two ago he came home on a Friday and told me that the front office at his school had received a call from a man threatening Tommy. The secretary refused to transfer the call to him, so the man screamed at her, hung up, called back and screamed some more. Tommy didn't know why this man had done this. Just that he was very mad about something.
I immediately started crying.
Tommy's school is not the most secure place in the world, and Tommy's office is pretty close to the front doors. If someone wanted to harm him, they could.
All weekend I worried. I worried someone had followed him home and was waiting for their moment. I worried that he would get ambushed on the way from his car to the building on Monday. I worried that the school wouldn't take the threats seriously and would leave Tommy to fend for himself. (I worry a lot.)
Tommy is very important. He is the entire reason I live in Asheville. He is the kindest, hardest working, most caring person I know. And if I think about losing him I can usually make myself cry. Tommy doesn't live some great, perfect life. But he lives honestly, and aims to do the right thing and I admire him very much.
On Sunday, at my behest, Tommy called his principal who hadn't been at school on Friday. He wanted to get his opinion on what to do. The principal said he would put an SRO in Tommy's office, and that he should find another place to work for the day. (This didn't stop me from worrying, I begged him to work from home for the day.)
On Monday I made Tommy promise me that he would text me every five minutes for the entire day. (This sentence seems crazy, but it's true.) Once at school several administrators were trying to figure out who it was, and finally someone did. The truth is less exciting in this story. It was just an angry parent who doesn't like women. At all.
So this isn't a story about treats, or death. It's about sexism.
Don't be jerks to anyone, people.
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