Wedding Day Death

Posted on | December 5, 2010 | No Comments

as written October 13, 2008

Brent is using heavily. Shooting up again. I saw him and my heart broke. Getting skinny again. Face haggard and jutting out in weird angles…his beautiful features obscured by the disease. Eyes huge and high and empty in his shadowed sockets. Socket. socket…socket…

Heroin. Track marks up his already ruined veins. Scabs lined up in perfect formation…neat pin pricks of death.

He OD’d on our anniversary. October 9th 2008. That’s why he never came home on Thursday. He was purple, too. Not breathing, too. Eyes rolled back, too. Pupils tiny and unresponsive to light, too. For over an hour. His using buddy saved his life. They both had shot up. Brent just didn’t wake up. So he threw water on him. Tried to wake him up. Don’t know what else he did. Eventually Brent snapped out of it-awake-suddenly alive again. He got angry and pissed off, too. Too, like Mikey. Mikey, too.

Brent died on our wedding anniversary.

And I knew it would happen. How much longer, Lord, must I watch this slow dance of death? How much longer, Lord, must I watch her endless black skirts sweep past the men I love and reel them in with her hypnotic music and irresistable promise of numbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnummmmm..

How much longer, Lord, must I hear the screams of silent pain and watch the smile creep across death’s face as she hears it too? How much further, Lord, will she drag the heavy chain; clanging the tolls of sorrow, sin, and disease behind her, echoing through my dreams?

Where is Thy Dove? Where is the miracle of the white bird, sent to give hope to a world washed away? Lord, where is My Dove? Are you holding him tenderly as he withers again (this mighty and great and valiant man) to hell? Wilt thou not raise Thy Hand and command this addiction to BE STILL!? Command the gates of hell to shut before him, to not allow him entrance despite what he does because he IS THY SON!!! Lord, I beg of thee, on my hands and knees…I kiss the dirt beneath your feet just because Thou walked here once. Canst not thou save him!!! At least, at least, at least…

Take him gently. Take him swiftly. Take him painlessly (he has had enough, Lord). Take him under the wing of the Great Dove and fly him home…

I cannot bear to watch the slow death again, my Brother and Shepherd. I do not know what to do. What to say to him. What to allow and what to say no to. I cannot leave him out in the cold, Lord I haven’t the strength to kill him faster. I am sorry if that just prolongs him seeking Thee, but I have not the strength… I, too, am withered by this disease and I crumble and falter and wail against the feet of his cross. I cannot save him, Lord…

Wilt thou please, oh Tender and Merciful and Understanding God that you are…please cut him down and release him. He has hung here for so long. Give him rest, give him peace, give him Love…

I release him unto You, my Savior, my Father, my Mother.

Take this pain from me, I cannot watch it. My beautiful Dove is dying…

again.

What am I supposed to do…?!?!

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Category: Brent, Letters to God, The Deadliest Disease, The Wars

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