Thursday, January 3
Reaching into the New Year . . .
Well, here we go, reaching into the New Year . . .
day after day into the unknown.
It gets less scary as we move forward.
Less like the beginning of the "Bad Year"
as the days collect behind us.
I didn't always feel this way.
I felt hopeful and fresh. Renewed even,
but then I learned what could be . . .
First, there was that friend of C's I was just vaguely aware of.
"JuJu" was the name he went by.
He died alone in his parents' house.
Friends left him there --
after he overdosed.
Scared I think.
That same summer it was the younger brother
of C's good friend and comrade.
He too died alone,
in an abandoned house,
down the street from his grandparents' home.
Green from rehab, he fled.
Took their car.
Drove into the city to buy drugs.
Another heroin overdose.
Tragically not found for a week.
His mother melted.
in September, when C himself was fresh from treatment,
he came home early to attend the funeral.
The son of a friend.
C's former roommate.
A rock climber.
On his way west,
back to a half-way house.
To a good life.
A healthy life.
He died alone in a hotel room
Of an overdose.
And so I count the days.
The days when nothing bad happens.
The days when all is calm.
All is bright.
And when the good days (like today) have passed
and they stack up higher
than the days ahead,
I will find hope that it may be
a Good Year after all.