Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Drugs Are Bad: The Follow-Up

After a month of investigation, hours of questioning by the Missouri Department of Mental Health, pharmacy charges to my account, and bright shiny new security cameras in select areas of my home...

I was informed by authorities that an arrest will be made soon.

And was informed from within the staff that I talk and joke with...that one of my favorites...has quit.
My heart broke, because my brother was an addict. Because this is the stuff my brother did.
Because this person...used to roll with my brother.


My brother was arrested for minor in possession  (MIP) at the age of 14. From there, a new phrase and a new facial expression came from my mother. A voice that was at once a declaration and a plea, many a time, would utter:

"But he's a good kid..."

It wasn't me she needed to convince. Philip and I shared a turbulent lifetime at a young age. The behavior is not at all the person. 
Recently, Philip's "brother from another mother" was arrested for intent to sell. I watched on the KRCG TV13 Facebook comments, lumping all drug addicts in one messy pile. Deeming these "vagrants" (very good Mid Western hobo! You used a big word! You spelled it wrong, but we'll let it slide...) as society's trash.

"Druggie, druggie, prison, streets not safe, parking lot, great job JCPD..."

It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever read. This took the cake. They dared to demote a young man, like a brother to me also, to nothing more than a single word, open dumping ground with the stench of the real corruption:

Our failure to help those who've been lost.

At that moment I knew my mother's heart. I felt enraged by the words spewing from stranger's mouths. I read the comments in tears, as he has also gotten a bad batch of heroine, and that is how the authorities had gotten involved in the first place.

my heart rang

"But he's a good kid..."

 What I wrote myself wasn't as raw as that. Nowhere near as trusting.

But after I made my comment, the derogatory remarks ceased.

In fact...everyone stopped commenting period. 

No one cares to see their own ugliness when you show them a mirror.

Which is why, with doubts in the back of mind...and a heavy heart...I say the investigation is almost over. I have no chance of closure, no way to say goodbye/

I'm not angry. My own brother stole my mediations. There was always a real reason for it. The streets are FINE for people in their shiny cars and a small pistol just in case they "feel" they are bring threatened *coughbullshitcough*...

It's a whole other ball game, however, when you're trying to care for your family, are in debt to someone, or any other variation.

Initially I was upset, but more so with management. Normally they refuse to open their eyes. But now that I know who it is...I am not angry at all.

If this person came in I would be the firs to greet them. To talk to them. I knew things were rough and had been for years.

Which is why I hold not only forgiveness...but trying my best to hold back tears.

This person
is a good person.
This person
I have grown so proud of
One day,
This person will do amazing things
Maybe sooner than later.
The choices we make
Don't always represent 
Who we really are.

In loving memory of Philip Nicolas Peterson
(10/25/88 - 1/5/09) 

No comments:

Post a Comment