It's Monday again. And Halloween. The fourth Halloween without Stephen and 157 weeks since he’s been gone. Should I stop counting? Part of me knows that in some form I will always be counting his loss for the rest of my life, simply missing him, but another part know is that he’s always with me and always will be. Missing him and counting his loss is buying into the illusion of death but it’s not real, it just appears to be real. If I practice releasing the illusion of death, practice releasing the idea that Stephen is gone, I will more quickly come to terms with a new reality, one that includes him in my daily life in a joyful way, not in a sad and grieving way. It will be a much easier way to live, much lighter and more fun --- more active.
I may
finally be ready to rise up from my crouching grief pose, balled up and weeping
on the rocks. I’m ready to forgive
myself for failing him --- failing to save him.
He never asked me too, after all.
But he was afraid, he told me he was.
He was experiencing a world I could not see or even comprehend. With methamphetamines, he shot himself down a
water slide straight to hell and he couldn’t get back from that place. I wish there was some way to tell his story
in such a way as to expose this fact of brain damage from the drug and make
it understood that it’s a one way trip, especially when a needle is involved. Once the intravenous use starts, the door
back to sanity slams shut and bolts and the nightmare begins in earnest on both
sides of the door. I guess that’s why
they call it slamming.
This
is what I didn’t know or understand 3 ½ years ago when Stephen and first used meth
in his veins. I didn’t know that as the
needle found its mark and the plunger was expressed, the liquid hell carried
him off, never to return. I need to ask
if others have come back from that swift slide out on the tide of
methamphetamines. I know people have come
back from heroine used in the veins but I don’t know about methamphetamine
recovery.
And
if I can find the words to tell the tale, would anyone listen? I, personally, was never attracted to LSD or
anything in a needle; in fact, the very idea repelled me. Why? I
was willing to smoke marijuana, snort cocaine, and I ate mushrooms twice. And also I drink alcohol to excess for many
years. But why didn’t I allow myself to
go all the way with drugs when I did “all the way” with so many other things?
