My nephew James was found dead Monday morning of an apparent drug overdose. It looked like an accident. There was no sign of struggle, and no note. There was only a tourniquet around his arm and an empty syringe next to his bed. He was 25 years old.
His first drugs were legal - Ritalin and then Lithium - to try to tame the demons that kept him from sitting still, from learning, from "fitting in". For the past 10 years he preferred to medicate himself with alchohol, street drugs of various sorts and finally heroin. His parents tried everything: love, tough love, special schools, family counseling. He spent time in rehab. He tried methadone. He spent time in jail. He qualified for disability. He had a girlfriend, a sweet, naive young woman, who got pregnant thinking a baby might make him grow up. James loved his daughter, but his girlfriend left with the baby after she realized that fatherhood hadn't changed him.
One of my best memories of James was when he was about 6 years old. He found a squirrel in the road, still living, but half paralyzed, and carried it home. He wasn't frightened at all, just caring. He wanted his Dad to fix it. I remember his father took the squirrel out back and put it out of its misery, and James cried.
There are some things you just can't fix.
He said:
Farewell, my friend, until we meet
Again, I hold you in my heart.
Our long appointed separation
Foretells reunion over there.
No word, no handshake, till we’re met;
Don’t grieve, my friend, or look so black—
In life it’s nothing new to die,
And living is, of course, not newer.
Sergey Yesenin
She said:
Beyond Recall
Nothing matters
to the dead,
that’s what’s so hard
for the rest of us
to take in—
their complete indifference
to our enticements,
our attempts to get in touch—
they aren’t observing us
from a discreet distance,
they aren’t listening
to a word we say—
you know that,
but you don’t believe it,
even deep in a cave
you don’t believe
in total darkness,
you keep waiting
Sharon Bryan
