It's been a while since I have posted. Much has happened.
Some good. I'll tell about that later.
But mostly the worst kind of thing.
My son Curly is dead.
You remember my Stooges - Larry, Curly, and Moe. Larry is almost 37 now. Moe is 28.And Curly didn't quite make it to his 33rd birthday.
He died at the end of March this year.
If you'll recall, Curly was diagnosed with a mental illness when he was 13, very young. He had trouble dealing with the diagnosis of bipolar II and did not believe it. He eventually believed that he was simply depressed, and would take some meds for that. But he refused to take proper medication for bipolar II.
Curly in 3rd grade |
Many people who are mentally ill and unsuccessfully medicated turn to some substance for self medication to soothe their minds. I’m not sure when Curly started doing this, but I know he was doing it over 10 years ago. I think it started with pain medication that was prescribed for some real issue, and then he got hooked. Oxycontin is not always readily available on the street, so his addiction morphed into heroin. He hid it for a long time. Eventually he became completely ensnared by that drug.
Before modern medicine, people with mental illness were considered to be possessed by a demon – there is real truth in that. His family and I did everything we could to help him counteract these demons. Psychiatry, therapy, visits to mental institutions, financial support. Then he needed detox and rehab. At one point he was homeless. He really, really suffered from those demons. He went through 3 rounds of rehab. He needed more, but his insurance would only pay for 3 months at a time, and then he was on his own. It wasn’t enough.
But the demon that is heroin eventually came roaring back, and it was that demon that killed him. Curly died of an accidental drug overdose.
The night before he died, Curly called me (as he often did) and we had a long talk. I was frequently his confident. That night he talked about wanting a family of his own. “I think I’d be a good dad,” he told me. He talked about his faith and reading the Bible and how much prayer helped him. He talked about his job frustrations. He talked about his girlfriend, who was taking a break from the relationship as she sensed something (drugs) was going on. And we ended the conversation as we always did, by telling each other I love you.
I’m so glad we ended that way. It was a gift.
Now Curly is no longer suffering from those demons. He is no longer in pain. He is in the arms of Jesus.
I am ok. You don't expect to outlive your children, but I am one tough cookie.
I've had help. And I am grateful for the help.
And I am grateful for Curly. He was handsome and smart and fun and funny and talented - and he always loved his mama really hard.
Curly and me |