This morning is cold and windy. Winter came suddenly and we will get our first snow this afternoon. Last night, my eldest son called me. Chris had died of a heroin overdose. This is not just a statistic on a list somewhere. Chris and my eldest son, Alex, grew up together. Chris’ family has lived on the same block that we do – for 30 years. This family has been a part of our lives for a long time.

There is another family who lives on our block almost next door to Chris. They had two sons who matched ages perfectly with my sons. The oldest one, who was the same age as my eldest, died of an overdose a couple of years ago. As for my crew, we have always been a beer and smoke kind of organization. We have had our problems with that. My eldest just completed thirty days of inpatient detox for the beer. Our younger one barely avoided prison on drug charges a few years ago. Both of mine have cleaned up their acts and I am both proud and grateful for their victories.

For a parent, the loss of this child is a, “There, but by the grace of God, go I,” moment. Ours survived and theirs died and there is nothing more to be inferred from that. A young life is lost and another ghost joins the club.

The snow has started. Fitting. White is the color of death to me. I struggle to capture what I’m feeling.

These young men who died were almost like family to us. All three families live in the same nice, middle-class neighborhood. Each of the couples have been hard-working and successful in our lives. As couples we have stayed together, the picture of stability. What went wrong in these young lives?

I ask the Great Spirit how all of this fits together because I’m not seeing a master plan. The only answer I get is the clickety-clack of ice on the windows.


Syd Weedon
11/21/2024