Heroin is a thief
9,490 days...that's all we got, not a minute more; My boy is gone.
That's all there will ever be. like gravity or the moon, I thought he'd always be here.
He flew to the city one last time. His relapse started the minute
he bought a drink on the plane.
That first drink was a bullet in the gun's chamber.
There is no recovery from this relapse.
After two years of feverishly working a program,
he bottomed out instantly at death.
He was the prodigal son;
he did return in 2008. But like a firefly...ever so briefly.
One terrible day in June 2010 heaven, earth and hell became one.
I died with my son, Now I must learn to live w/o him.
No Resurrection is possible. My son is a drug casualty.
I'll forever grieve the loss of the life my son was entitled to and
the life I was entitled to with him.
For now I am an observer, not a full participant in this world.
Grieving is an isolated journey.
One day as my pain begins to subside a little, may the restorative power of HOPE return.
Hope that the pain softens, despair lifts and life will be worth living again.
I speak of him as I am the teller of the tale.