25 1/2 Hours and 18 years ago (Poem)

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(Photo by Bart Anestin)

 

Twenty five and a half hours from now *plus eighteen years ago* I stopped walking the Streets of Detroit looking for you.
Your two kids were upstairs waiting for you. I called Rick and told him.
And then went home to bed.
I got up for work the next day, worked a full shift, came home and my dad walked into my room to tell me you were dead.
Heroine and Booze is a deadly cocktail and according to the autopsy report – your heart stopped so suddenly you didn’t even have time to brace yourself before you fell.
It was a hard life lesson for me.
One that says love doesn’t always win.
It was the first time i’d lost someone that meant a great deal to me.
You were a friend when i needed one the most.
But you had your demons.
It’s okay.
Everyone does. I understand that, now.
Goodness isn’t a person, badness isn’t a person, these are states of being. Transition places like happy or sad or mad.
You were good – you just had a weakness about you – a handicap.
I miss you. I think you would have liked the way I grew up.
I thought about you in that fuzzy place between wakefulness and sleep.
Suddenly, you were there after all this time.
I’m glad you are. It was nice to see you again.
I love you but i’m sure you know that, now.
Goodnight

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