month one

today is one of those impossibly hard days. it's been exactly 1 months since my brother passed away. yesterday steve & i walked from west philly to rittenhouse square, scottie's favorite place in the world. for me, it is a place of refuge & comfort; when i am there i can feel my brother's spirit & picture him, smoking, drinking energy drinks, hanging out in the middle of the park, excitedly yelling "hey!" & hugging all the people he knew who walked by, no matter how much of a hurry they were in. but it is also a place that holds lots of regret & sorrow. i know the park is where scott had gotten into fights, been arrested, passed out cold after hours of drinking & using drugs. the park is where his "friend" stole scott's bike & sold it for drug money. it is there where scott bought drugs, & quite possibly sold them as well.

we sat where my brother's memorial had been a few weeks ago. i had heard that the candles & empty 40 bottles had been left up for a while afterwards, but with the melting snow & influx of people that had come to enjoy the beautiful weather last weekend, there wasn't any trace of my brother's shrine. yesterday, it had gotten cold again, so it wasn't super crowded. but i immediately noticed a small group of outcasts that looked like they'd be a part of scottie's crowd. then i recognized one - the one with the long red dreads, also known as p**** - as a friend who either sold my brother the heroin, or was the middleman, that helped kill my brother. some of scottie's other friends had been full of rage towards p****. at the hospital, they had reassured my mom & me that they would get him for what he had done to scott. we kindly told them that shouldn't do anything on our behalf, or scottie's either. he wouldn't have wanted it; it wouldn't make us feel any better; it wouldn't help bring him back anyway.

but sitting in the park, watching p**** & his few other friends smoking & drinking red bull, got me so angry. i noticed a couple of young boys, who looked like they couldn't have been more than 20 years old, walk hesitantly & uncertainly toward the crew. they paused, just outside the circle, then slowly joined. the 2 groups exchanged handshakes, & phone numbers. although i didn't see any drugs exchanged, & i know that my mind is capable of conjuring up images that aren't necessarily based in reality, i couldn't help but wonder if this whole interaction was for a future illegal deal. & i could feel my blood boil; my brother would be dead only a month & this friend hadn't learned a damn thing. to me, it was like he was spitting on his ashes.

in fact, p**** came to visit my brother in the hospital on friday, a few hours before the machines were unplugged. his pupils were dilated, his eyes were glassy & red. he smiled innocently & knowingly, claiming scott was in a better place. there was no sadness in his voice, or regret. i remember being confused by his reaction; not all of scottie's friends had cried in the hospital, but all had showed some kind of remorse, or at least complete shock. i don't think p**** purposely hurt my brother. like i said, i'm not completely sure of his role in the overdose. but i will never understand how he could treat his friend's death, & life, so flippantly. & then continue to participate in reckless behavior that ultimately caused so much pain to not only my brother, but my family. i watched the 2 younger guys settle into p****'s crowd, & share some cigarettes. by then, steven & i had had enough. we gathered up harry, who was practicing his walking by inching himself around the dry fountain, & strolled out of the park.

i guess the hardest part of the whole thing is that we, my family & i, think about scottie most of the day, everyday. the hurting is so raw. just beneath each emotion, our sorrow lies waiting to reappear & consume us. although the loss of my brother is still somewhat of a hazy reality, the truth is steadily coming into focus & becoming more concrete each day. the fact is, i want my brother back, but i know that will never happen, at least not like i'm used to having him in my life. this is a painful fact that i, along with my mom & dad & brother, will have to face each day for as long as the world has use for us. it is hard for us to know that to others, my brother's memory will slowly fade. he won't be thought of regularly; instead he may be a passing thought every so often. they can eventually go back to living similarly, if not exactly like they did before his death. we will never have that option. & it is beyond upsetting to know that some of scottie's friends will continue to do drugs & succumb to the same fate as my brother.

the sad reality is that my brother used to be one of those souls. about a year ago, a close friend of scottie's passed away by overdosing. i remember how distraught he was; but i also remember scott telling me that he & his friends honored the death by getting wasted.

so today, the 21st of february, steve & i spent our last hours together missing our brother. i wore scottie's camouflaged t-shirt, & we ate at chick-fil-a in honor of him. scott was always obsessed with chicken: kfc, crown fried, the generic grocery store brand, or the spicy nuggets you could get for a few bucks at the chinese place with the bullet proof glass around the corner. back home, steve packed up his suits & scottie's clothes that he had been wearing for the past month. he said goodbye to his nephew & the spot he had made on our couch. i drove him to the airport & hugged him one last time.

one month down...
(breathe&repeat)