Justice

The words don’t come easy, not even for a girl with a pen. I stare at his photos, failing to recall his voice, his laugh…

Two years have passed. There is not one day that goes by that I don’t think of Justice (JJ). I wear a bracelet with his name, a reminder to slow down, make time, remember what matters. I want to permanently tattoo this on my body, a tribute to my butterfly. 

I tear another page from the notebook and toss it in the trash. Why is this so hard? Blank page stares back at me. The struggle is real, peeps. To capture the essence of his life is a tall and emotional order. To weave the intricacies and produce a worthy piece honoring his life, well, it isn’t easy. JJ was many things; categorizing him neatly on one shelf is a disservice to him and those he left behind. 

My sister always says, ‘his’ book (his life) was more like a short story. Some of his chapters are difficult to digest; they expose ugliness, addiction, struggles, and co-dependency. The world of an addict is often dark. But these chapters do not make up his whole story. There are also chapters of forgiveness, bravery, and tremendous love. Yes, his was a short story. Nonetheless, it was a life worthy of mention, worthy of sharing, and worthy of remembering.

I lean on my personal journal entries for insight. It is not my intent to tell his story or speak his truth. I hope to shed light on a complex and delicate life told from the lens of someone who adored him.

Justice taught me that beauty always exists, even in the most painful times. As a tribute to his beautiful life, I am adding a new subheading to my blog, Beauty in Pain. A spot in my universe to share the pain but mostly be inspired to grow, learn, and celebrate together.

In the end, we did not get our happy ending. Still, we are better for knowing and for loving Justice. Thanks to him, we are better friends, sisters, aunties, mothers, and daughters.

To infinity and beyond…

Xo-Mic

WINTER 2017- REHAB

It took twenty-five hundred miles for my sis to find resolve. Her voice trembles as she recounts the last few hours. Her desperate attempt to save her firstborn.

Life in small-town America is comforting, ordinary, and habitual. But if you mix this with boredom, insecurities, and anxiety, well, you get the perfect cocktail for escapism.

You hear stories of kids told they aren’t worth a dime. Kids who are abused, neglected, and deprived of all things, including love. Kids turn to drugs to escape the horror of their lives. Sometimes, I think it would be easier to understand if JJ were one of these kids. But the truth is that JJ was beloved from the moment my sister discovered she was pregnant. The pregnancy was not planned; E was young and single. Not ideal, but none of it mattered. She was thrilled; she put on her overalls and never looked back. Our family was over the moon; ah, we couldn’t wait to meet our little angel.

It hasn’t all been perfect; the divorce was hard on him, on all of them, including the adults, and they wanted the divorce. He struggles with demons. But he also has infinite love, opportunities, and encouragement. My sis loves being his mama and sees all of him, his greatness, and his imperfections. Bella adores him; words can’t begin to define their tight bond. Nana genuinely believes he walks on water. The rest of us love him for many reasons, primarily for being our first; he will always be our first. The cousins round up the love fest… how they idolize him. 

I question, is it possible that we love him too much? Is that a thing? Is it too much pressure? Is he afraid to disappoint us? I think back to the night he was born; we filled the waiting room; it dawns on me JJ has always had an audience, even at birth; there we were, filled with hopes, wishes, and dreams…maybe it was too much, did we invertedly plant unrealistic seeds – so many people to please, too much pressure to be something, did he misconstrue our attention for expectations… 

It started with a bit of pot; no one flinched. He is a teenager, after all, expected behavior. Nothing to cause alarm, so we thought, but for JJ, it was the first sign of wanting to escape. He quit sports. All of them. He was always an All-Star, again, an audience, watching, scrutinizing his every move. I don’t remember when the conversation turned from smoking pot to pill-popping. But it did. 

Justice is drifting further away. He graduated; we all gathered to celebrate. Again, this kid, with an audience he did not request. We pepper him with questions: what are you going to do? Are you going to school? What’s next? It’s too much; he takes off from his graduation celebration. I find all the envelopes torn up, cards left on the table, checks in his pocket. I instantly regret my gift (money); I wonder how much junk I paid for.

Flashback to Christmas at Nana’s, we wear our ugly outfits, the theme for the year. He looks so thin. No matter how dreadful things get, he always is available to sit with me, to chat. His words sting: I am in trouble, Moe. If given a choice between pills and the family, I would choose the drugs. His beautiful eyes are sunken; we hug for a long time. I don’t have to guess anymore; this is beyond profound. My sister knows it, too. Her plan is already in motion.

‘It’s done; she tells me I won’t contact him for thirty days. How do you feel? I ask. She confesses freely; I’m relieved and exhausted. I haven’t slept in a long time. I have been holding my breath, not knowing, scared. Every day, I wondered, is this the day his luck runs out? She is heartbroken but hopeful.

She’s only a year younger, but the stress is too much; she looks ten years older. She has done all she can; she is brave, and so is he. She found the best center for him; it is in California. She packed his bags and held his hand. He had second thoughts and begged her to take him home. He made false promises of getting better on his own. She knows better. She grew tall and courageous, hugged him tightly, and left him with strangers. The pain cuts her deeply, but the alternative is not something she is willing to live with. Justice is an addict. And home (Ohio, her house, his friends, his spots, his dealers) are no longer an option.

I am proud of you both, I tell her. Today, Justice is safe; only he can do the work. I turn my attention to my sister; you know E, you realize you are in Rehab too. She is confused. You, too, must work the steps. You have spent the last year using every tactic to save him (therapy, tough love, encouragement, etc.) Now that he is in Rehab, you need to have a lengthy conversation with yourself. To pause and reflect. Your role? Your relationship? I am not assigning fault; my sister is a saint, but I take this opportunity to encourage her to dig into self-reflection. No matter what, this is a life sentence for both; he will always be a recovering addict. She cannot parent as she has; he will never be the same kid; she is changed forever.

Her hope (ours, too) is that he sticks it out as long as it takes to regain strength. To battle the addiction and garnish the tools necessary for a sustainable recovery. This, of course, is up to him. He is eighteen, an adult, and can walk out anytime.

Dang, life is fragile. We were plugging along, and life got real and scary so quickly. Suddenly I am praying because, religious or not, shit just hit the fan, and God is the only lifeline left; please, save him. This is all I got. I can’t make any of this go away. None of us can. It’s a terrible dosage of reality. So, I take a knee and pray; we all do.

Predicting what will happen or who will come out on the other end is difficult. Will JJ let this addiction define who he is? Or will he use his recovery to discover his true potential? Will he figure out his big why…what is he escaping? Tough questions only he can answer.

I don’t get to write the next chapter; only JJ can. I hope it’s a happy ending; I like happy endings.

To Be Continued…