I could not comprehend that they were still heroin addicts. I had spoke to both of them in the past about their addictions to drugs and heroin had come up in the past, but I did not think that it was still an issue. The second I found out my older cousin Cory had passed I brokedown and wept like a child. I could not hold myself together because it was too much of a surprise. I could not stop sobbing and asking why. It was by far the worse day I have ever been through.
Beyond that...
The night before the two of them had OD'd I was talking to Cory. His phone kept cutting out and he kept calling me back on my landline phone. We were suppose to go out and get some beers and hangout. I told them I wasn't in the mood and he kept saying, "I'm buying, don't worry about money bro. Just come out with Jason and me and hangout. It's been a while." I kept saying I didn't want to but if I changed my mind I'd hit them up. They called me a few more times but I never made it out. The next day he died and Jason almost went with him. Jason passed out and fell on his leg in a weird way which cut the circulation off. He woke up in the morning with a swollen leg that ballooned up almost triple the size of his legs. He's not a strong or built guy but he was active because they were both plumbers. Jason woke and saw Cory with foam at his mouth and not breathing. He dialed 911 and they came. He was pronounced DOA. I had saved those voicemails on my phone and I would listen to them in my room in private. Guilt set in.
I fought many demons and still do to this day thinking that I could have prevented it if I had just gone out with them. They knew I was and still AM drug-free, aside from alcohol. I have never touched an illegal drug and plan to never touch one as long as I live. I am also free of all pills, inhalants and other shit.
I never thought I was going to really move on from that experience. Jason lost his brother, I lost my cousin, my family lost a son, nephew, etc.
When I went to the funeral/wake I took it upon myself to write his Eulogy. I wrote it strictly from the heart with swearing, honesty and some tears. To this day I rate that as my favorite piece of work I have ever written because it was pure, 100% from the heart and it was for someone who I loved so much. I have since lost that piece of work but carry it with my tattooed on my chest the number, "14."
My cousins and I were like brothers when we got together. Even my younger brother Darren finally grew up a bit and started to get a shot at the shit we did. Our birthdays all merged so close to each other that it was one after another. Cory-2/2, Jason 3/14, Me 3/23, Darren 3/26. We grew up close but did find plenty of room to fight. In childhood it was over things like toys and clothes. Then it grew to who was who in our re-enactments of the TV show, "COPS." Then it grew to girls in our high school years. The two of them being city boys, moved to Schamburg and then eventually Naperville where they attended the opposite school of me which brought them and my immediate family some unwanted attention. They were eventually nicknamed, "Ghetto and Lil Ghetto." How appropriate for two brothers who practically worshipped TuPac. (TuPac passed away 9/14.)
I never knew how much Cory's death was going to eventually control and ruin Jason's life. After that Jason went sober from everything, even cigs. But it took him less than a year to fall off the wagon and become a fallen down drunk who went on awful drinking binges and eventually became a terrible Meth-head in Seattle. I had moved out West (LA/Vegas) for a second time and Jason thought it was a good idea he moved to Seattle to attempt a fresh start since he had burned almost every bridge in Illinois. He did the same out there but got hooked on Meth. I moved back to IL within less than a year and came to find out about him being homeless, methed out, stealing, pan-handling and so on. I had my fair share of unfortunate times in Cali but that's for a different time. Jason eventually moved back to IL where he lived with my family in our home and he did nothing more than continue to drink. He did and said awful things while hammered off Jager. His apologies never came.
My cousin Cory was always looking out for the youngins. Not only Jason, myself, Darren and so on, but his half brothers and half-sister. He had a great heart but had demons that would not let go of him. He was always willing to babysit, pick them up, take them wherever they needed to go. He would have made a great older brother growing up with them and possibly a father if he had kicked that habit.
Today stands as a memorial and celebration for who Cory was to ME. How he helped me internally and externally. I have finally gotten over the guilt that I put on myself for thinking that I could have prevented his death but that does not mean I still think about it. I use to visit his grave every week for years. I would hang out, talk to him, pour Jager on his grave and throw a Newport 100 on his grave. Eventually I got away from that because I let him go. My dreams of him where few and far between and I began to move on. I still battle with the thought of saying, "o fuck it," and hanging out with them for a few beers. Now all I want to do is say, "o fuck it," and have a few beers with him.
I don't know if he's looking over me or not. I think that he needs to pay attention to his brothers more than me at this point in our lives. But every day I look in the mirror and see that, "14," tattooed on my chest and remember that his death might have prevented the deaths of others. I do not want to preach anything remotely religious but I do believe that his death was a wake up call to others around him who were battling that evil drug heroin.
I might see him again in my dreams or if there is a heaven or hell I may be able to have those beers with him. But as for now I need to stay focused on my life drive myself in the right direction. I will never forget him. I will never forget September 14th. I love you Cory.
Sincerely,
Trevor
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