The Faults of a Friend
The only thing I hate more than your passing itself is that you are now forever labeled a drug addict. A drug addict doesn’t get sympathy from strangers. A drug addict’s family and friends aren’t consoled in the same way had the person died a different way. No one cares to hear about anything else a drug addict did with their life, if they tried getting help, or if they were on the right path. It’s all irrelevant because drugs killed them–addiction killed them–not something “tragic” like cancer or a car crash.
But a drug addict was not my friend. Kevin was my friend. The funny, caring, sorta-hippie, smart kid was my friend. I met you as Sober Kevin. The dude at work that I thought was awkwardly straight-edge. The guy that agreed to go for a beer after his year off everything, and had a hilariously low tolerance—he was my friend. The one that we could all count on to go to Norse with, host a bonfire, or go to concerts and bounce around without a care in the world. Kevin.
As time went on, sure you had your faults, as we all do. You never did any wrong to me, but I saw it happening to others that were close to me. Because of that, I withdrew. That’s when the Kevin I knew was turning into someone else. Your actions will never be justified, but that’s what addiction does to a person.
There are people that will never forgive you, people that already have, and those that feel guilty for not being the person to save you. I have nothing to forgive you for, but I don’t feel guilty because I know you would’ve asked for help if you wanted it. You were doing what you wanted to do. You’d snap out of it eventually. I mean…you did before. You just needed time.
Too many people will only ever remember you as the drug addict or the asshole, and it’s not fair. You were so much more than that. Never in a million years did I expect to cry over you, Kev. So I just hope that when you slipped into the darkness, you were comfortable. I hope it felt really fucking good.
Rest easy, my friend.
(I bet you have that smirk on your face right about now—so you better get ready to be slapped by all of us down here when we see you in the next life.)
Finding My Focus 