I’ve had an issue that’s been seriously bothering me for
quite some time but I haven’t really had time to sit down and write about it
which may not cure my ills, but at least lets me unload a bit. It’s kind of
like a journal, but because I totally overestimate my importance, I put it out
on the internet for the world to see! It’s just my way.
Now after that, it’s probably going to be hard to turn this
back towards the serious side, but here it goes…and you’re all going to be
like, “that turned dark way too fast,” but once again…it’s our blog and I’ll
write what I want because I’m oh so very important…
Two weeks ago, a co-worker of mine, a 34 year old guy, died.
We found out on a Sunday night and from all accounts and hearing people speak
at his funeral/wake, it was more than likely from a drug overdose, more than
likely Meth. He had a history of drug use, but not one that we thought he was
continuing. He had been a reliable and very capable worker, which means a lot
to me because he worked with me but more importantly for my best friend.
Workers aren’t always easy to find in the landscaping
business, at least reliable ones. It’s tough work, and often requires long
hours. But when this guy first showed up he was having a few difficulties
getting his life in order, he had worked about a week before he had to call my
boss/friend to see if he would possibly bail him out of jail for driving
without a license. And because of things like that, when I first started
working with him, both my friend and I had the intentions of working him so
hard that he would eventually just quit.
But that little son of a gun didn’t quit. He worked his ass
off, taking several breaks at first but as soon as he got going in the trade,
he was easily one of the hardest workers that my friend has ever had working
for him (which I took offense to, of course). He not only busted his butt daily
but he also showed initiative. So often we work with guys who are handy with a
shovel when prodded, but very rarely does someone actually attempt to learn how
to lay block, or set up a patio…but he did.
My dad met him exactly twice. The first time was when he
first started working. We were all at the café in the little town we work at
eating, and this guy was sitting in a truck at the shop sleeping. The second
time he met him was about a week before he passed away (my co-worker) at which
point we were going to fix some landscaping at my dad’s house. Our co-worker
jumped out of the truck as soon as we stopped and was over trying to see what
the problem was and was attempting to fix it. Needless to say, my dad was
pretty impressed with the transition.
Working with him taught me a lot about not judging a book by
its cover and also about addiction.
By the time he passed away, I would have said we weren’t
just co-workers anymore but that we were teetering on the verge of being
friends…but when I found out about the possibility that he had died of a drug
overdose…I began to realize just how little I knew about his situation and
also, how lucky I was to grow up how I did.
After he passed away we spent quite a bit of time reliving how
crazy he was and how we had all been introduced to him for the first time, and
I also learned a lot about his back story, how he grew up…how his mom had been
a drug addict, and how she had also more than likely died of an overdose. How,
essentially, he was doomed from the get go.
Now a lot of people will read that statement and say that, “we
all make our own choices.” Which is true, but 9 times out of 10, that statement
comes from individuals a lot like me.
I grew up with two loving parents who had their differences
and we had our problems. Not enough money to feed all the kids or keep the
lights/heat on. We ate a lot of spam as a kid, and I kind of thought it was a
delicacy! Times were tough in the Brumwell household for a while…but we always
had love and we always had each other. I literally don’t know shit about tough.
My co-worker’s mom was dead by the time she was around 35.
He held the record in our area for minors which stood (and stands) at 20 (a
fact he told me the week he passed away). He once got two minors in the same
night because his parents didn’t really care since all it was, was a fine. He
was just told that he had to get a job or find a way to pay the fines, and you
know a great way to get quick money…selling drugs apparently!
While he was working with us he was busy taking care of an
uncle who apparently is such a bad alcoholic that our co-worker would often get
calls to come pick him up from various bars because he had passed out there.
This was his life.
The one bright point that I saw was that he was one hell of
a worker. He had once been a welder for several companies and exceeded at that
position and as previously mentioned, he had potential to be one of the best
workers that my friend had ever had working for him. One thing I keep thinking
about is that we were about to build a block bar for an individual and he was
so excited to get to attempt to design it…but he never got to, and he never
will.
Why do people turn to drugs? Is it for recreation, because
their friends are doing it, because it makes them feel good, or perhaps it’s
just to escape their normal everyday lives?
I’ve smoked pot exactly one time. I also sold it that one
time, because I was drunk in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area and I thought that
what this group of individuals was doing was just another business venture.
They had a product that they were trying to sell and they weren’t trying to
force it down anyone’s throats…they were just letting them know that it was
available. Me, being me, had a very in-depth conversation with this group and
then proceeded to join their ranks for about five minutes and share a joint with
a random businessman who said his wife didn’t let him touch the stuff anymore…the
crew was alright with it, and after I had blown the sale I went on with my
night. I didn’t get high, I was probably already too drunk for that, but it was
a story to tell the grandkids one day…but probably not really.
That was my experience with drugs. I mean I’ve been around
several, mostly pot, but haven’t attempted any at any other time. But alcohol
is something I enjoy and partake in from time to time…probably too many times
when I really think about it (I don’t really have to think about it). But a lot
of people partake in alcohol and don’t think much about it, and most people can
probably handle it alright…but some can’t and for those people it can be as big
of a problem as drugs.
Luckily I grew up with parents who questioned me when they
thought I was getting out of hand, and because I knew they were doing it out of
love, I knew that I had to seriously stop and think about what I was doing…If
they hadn’t cared, if they had used as heavily as I was, who knows where I’d
be?
The title of this post is, “The Haves and The Have Nots,” it’s
based off of a book I read in college which talked about the drastic difference
between growing up with money and without it. It was an interesting read for
sure, but when I went to the prayer service for my co-worker it was the first
thing that came to mind. Not because I grew up with money and my co-worker hadn’t…because
I grew up with a certain kind of love that was not only missing in my
co-workers life, but in many of the people who were in that room with us.
The stories they told about growing up with my co-worker
were heartwarming in the fact that they were stories of some of their most fond
memories of a guy I had gotten to know and grew to really like…but they were
some of the saddest stories I had ever heard as well. They were about stealing
cars and getting away with it because no one really cared that they had done
it. About getting caught drinking or doing drugs, and one of the saddest was
the individual who got up two different times to remind people that if they
know someone who needs help, to reach out to them…without a doubt, he was
asking for help with this statement…and I’m sure he wasn’t the only one there
that could have used it.
The saddest part of the whole experience was that I got to
know one of this “crew,” and I didn’t know him from drugs, I didn’t know him
because we got in trouble together…I got to just know him, the person he could
be, the potential he had…if he had grown up with my parents, or maybe yours?
Where would he be today?
Sure. We all get to make our own decisions in this life. But
when it comes down to it, most of those decisions are based off of past
experiences and the thought of how those decisions effect the ones we love…some
of us have that certain kind of love in our lives that helps us choose the “right”
path…and others have not.
Regardless…I’ll miss my co-worker, I’ll miss my friend.
