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Hiding the Fact You’re Dead Again

Listening to The Shins is difficult. You gave me their album for one of my birthdays and I wasn’t sure that I liked them at first. You can’t throw on their music in the background while you do other activities. Their songs are the kind that you put on and then lie down on the floor so you can stare at the ceiling while you listen. That’s the best way to categorize The Shins. Songs you stare at the ceiling to.

I was watching Stuck in Love earlier. That movie has so many things that I like: writing, Stephen King, love. I’m not sure if you ever saw this movie, but I think that if you had, you would have liked it. One of the characters struggles with substance addiction. In the end, she realizes that the only person who can help her recover is herself and checks into rehab. It serves as a painful reminder that because of the way our world is – the way our healthcare system is, the way we look at addiction – you weren’t able to get the help that you needed and deserved. It makes me angry. I’m so angry.

How can it be coming up on two years since we lost you and I’m still in the stages of mourning?

Posted on by Liz

Better Late

It’s quite unknown to me how more than a year has gone by since I last sat down to write to you. I’m not sure how to articulate what the year 2020 has looked like for me, but I will try to explain what I’ve been going through.

While the world has been getting sicker and sicker in more of a metaphorical sense rather than a physical one, we finally got the pandemic that we deserved. So many lives have been lost and so many people will never be the same after this year in the worst way imaginable. If someone had told me that I would be alive through a pandemic, I’m not sure that I would have believed them. After this year though, there isn’t a lot now that I wouldn’t believe.

I still visit your Facebook page from time to time, mainly to see if anyone else from your life has been thinking of you lately. It’s comforting to see that I am not the only one still in mourning after over a year and a half since the world lost you. Much like this pandemic, if someone had told me a decade ago that I would lose you to addiction, I would not have believed. I’m not sure if you would have believed. So much of my time has been spent thinking about you and how I should have done things differently. Is it survivor’s guilt? Somehow, that doesn’t sound right.

Back in August, after months of anxiety and lost sleep, I got the virus that has been spreading around like fire throughout the world. It terrified me. The what-ifs weighed heavily on my mind and in my heart as I stayed home recovering my symptoms. Through this process, inevitably I thought about you and what your last moments looked like on Earth; such pain and trauma culminating in what I imagine to be such a horrible death. It makes places inside of me hurt. As one of your friends so eloquently articulated online, you “deserved so much fucking more than the stigma and shame you felt for using drugs.” So much more has to be done when it comes to drug use and mental health.

We’re working on it though. I saw a commercial while watching television with my husband and mother-in-law in our new house. Well, it was more of a public announcement given the subject matter. It was about asking someone how they are, instead of sitting in silence, knowing the other person is suffering. Reaching out could be all it takes to save someone from that dark place inside of them. I’m glad that this kind of issue is being talked about more openly. It’s a shame that the message was received too late.

But, it’s better late than never. Merry Christmas.

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Trying

Your mom reached out to me last month. I was lying in my bed at 11:00 pm and I heard my phone’s notification sound. She misses you so much; she feels like she failed you. I told her that whenever she needed to talk, I was here. I miss you just as much.

I know it’s not the same; losing a friend is different than losing a child. But loss is loss and when you lose someone you really care about, talking to someone who loved them too is really helpful. So I hope your mom does reach out to me when she wants a reminder that you won’t be forgotten. I could use the reminder too.

She also told me that you stopped talking to me because you were ashamed of your addiction and you thought I hated you. I know that you were sick and your thoughts were clouded by substance abuse and mental illness, but I really hope – I have to – that you knew somehow, however deep down, I could never hate you. No matter what life choices you made, no matter who you surrounded yourself with, no matter who you loved, no matter what you did, I always cared about you. I could and would forgive you for anything and everything because you were my friend.

I wish you were still around to talk to. Our late night whispers over instant message will always be a memory I cherish. I miss you more than I could ever articulate in writing or out loud, but I will always continue to try.