On Loss and Drugs

This is going to seem a little disjointed, I'm sure, but to preface this, a former student at my high school recently died of an overdose. We're not sure as to the details yet, but I felt that this conversation I pieced together from Facebook might be able to help someone. The guy's name was Ryan, and he left behind a daughter.

I'm partially inspired to put this here because of the recent death of Justin JewWario Carmical. Both deaths were sudden and tragic.


Here it is:


I don't even know how to even. That's a life. I don't care who you are, or if you knew them or not, that is a *life*. Cut short and ended. A spark of the impossibility of life, Gone.

No drug is a safe drug. Weed may have medicinal properties, yes, but it's still a fair bit dangerous. Wanton use without analyzing the risks is just silly and stupid and I can't even begin to describe how bad of an idea it is.

And the thing is, it's romanticized the same way Cigarettes were back in the 50s. You're not "cool" unless you do this drug or that drug. You're not "sexy" unless you toke up.

And that's not the case. You are as cool and a sexy as you think you are, and no one can change that.

And that romanticization (not a word, but whatever, it needs to be) leads to things like this happening.

This is just beyond heartbreaking and I didn't even know him.

What we have to accept is that while we feel it was too soon, while we feel the hurt and the sorrow, God has a higher plan. We may not understand it, and it *sucks* not knowing what it is.

We ask ourselves "How can this be a part of it all? HOW can this sorrow and tragedy be somehow for the better? What is gained through this?" And more than likely we may never know. And we may never know because this tragedy has changed us all in ways we cannot fathom.

If ever there were a comforting thought, it is that we here on this earth are fleeting and our candles burn short but bright. And those that are extinguished before us shone the brightest light we'd seen! If ever there were a comforting thought in the face of tragedy, it's that those who go before us, go so that we may live with them forever in our hearts and so that we may learn something from them and hold them even more dear to us.

Death is not the end. Death is the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. Death is a temporary barrier between us and the ones we love in eternal joy.

But then, aren't preventable deaths and a death after a life lived different? Yes, They are different. They're different in the way we are affected by them. In one we take solace in that they lived a good life, and hopefully died peacefully. In the other, we ask ourselves "What could I have done to prevent it from happening?"

And the answer, truthfully, is that unless you're aware of the possibility of it happening, you truly can't. And it sucks and it hurts, and half of the time I don't believe it myself. Hell, you're talking to the guy who legitimately wants to be Superman and save everyone he sees from whatever's ailing them!

Hurt now. Be angry now. Cope in whatever way you cope. But when the dust settles, when it's all said and done and we've mourned until we can't physically mourn anymore, all we have are memories, both good and bad. But each of those memories hold the face, the laugh, the smile, the cry, the voice, the *soul* of the person we've lost.

If I ever say nothing else of value for the rest of my days, then at least I can say this: Every life has meaning, and that life leaving us has twice as much meaning because of how much they meant to us while here. 

The dead never truly die because we keep their memory alive. And thousands of years from now, when everyone who remembers you is dead and gone, you'll still be around. The ones we've lost will still be around. Because we're all connected. How we act in 2000 years is a product of how we treat each other today. Every smile, every laugh. It all changes us in subtle, minute ways that we don't even being to see at first. It's only when they're gone that we see how they've helped mold and shape us, chipping off tiny little bits of stone from the sides to form a perfect picture of who we are.

I often say "you are God's Masterpiece because of the time he put into making you who you are", and this is a bit part of that. Every interaction with someone helps shape us into who we are, and helps form that masterpiece. There's no such thing as death because they leave their fingerprints on the marble when they carve that tiny little sliver from the rough marble.

Ryan was God's Masterpiece and his brush all at the same time. He left a darling, lovely little girl who, yes, will grow up without her father. But if I've learned one thing in my life, it's that the ones we never see can sometimes leave the most lasting effect on us.

I guess now I'm rambling, but I dunno, I just wanted to help in any way I could. Hopefully someone closer to Ryan will see this and it'll be just what they need to see today.

And if that's you, whoever you are, reading this right now? God loves you, and I love you, and while the hurt never really goes away, it dulls with time. But it's love, the love you have for Ryan, the love God has for you, and the love I share everyday, all of it... *that* never goes away. It never weakens or dulls over time. It is there through the tears and the pain and it's in those times when it gets *stronger*.