Here is some food for thought about a topic we all try to avoid, but as the Daily Times Newspaper pointed out, is a topic that we cannot escape. "The Heroin Epidemic."
Inside OutI haven’t decided what’s worse? Knowing he was lying dead in a coffin somewhere or knowing he was "dead", killing himeself each day, but still dragging himself through life?
We can allow ourselves to grieve and eventually to forget. We allow our minds to manipulate the memories—we forget the tragic, the dark, the heart wrenching parts and we let the happier, “before” memories take over. Eventually we allow ourselves to let go of the hurt, disappointment and loss. We “let go” because we want to, and because they are dead, so we have to.
So don’t get me wrong, I am not wishing death on him. God No! It’s nothing like that. It’s just that for me—the bystander, the friend, the outsider; I had no control. I have just had the displeasure of watching the beautiful person I once knew fade away into the dark depths of drugs. I could only watch as he got worse, and kept using. For me, it was like standing by a pool, watching someone you love drowning and not being able to reach in and pull them out. That’s how I felt at least. That’s why I think that maybe death would have been easier.
With death there is a definitive end.
So, maybe if he were laying in a casket instead of walking down the street I would have had to let go much sooner. Maybe then I would have been able to disregard the “what if’s” the “maybe’s” the prayers, wishes and hopes that lurked in my mind.
But he’s not dead, not then and not now. Somehow he “survived” all that drug use. His body survived at least, so he’s not physically dead. There is no coffin, no funeral, no eulogy—and no closure. See the catch 22?
He, as I remembered him, was forever changed by the drugs. The liquid poison raced through his veins and erased him. The person I loved, I knew, I grew up with…he was gone. His body was still there, reminding me of who he once was, but he was gone from the inside out. That’s the hardest part. Helplessly watching a loved one turn into a drug addict is one instance when it feels okay to think that death may have been easier than life.
Watching someone die inside out made it all feel so backwards.