During heat waves, cold snaps or
such emergencies your local News station will advise you to check in with
your elderly neighbors. It’s
important because they may be struggling (or dying) and unable to reach out for
help. It’s a reminder that probably shouldn't exist.
In my 12-Step Program, these
check-ins are almost automatic. You are told to call someone else in the
program every day. If you have a sponsor, you may receive a suggestion to do so
with them. It helps because even if you have nothing to say. you get into the
habit of doing so when there is something important that needs to come out.
I sponsored a man in 2019 I’ll
call Waylon, and during that year he became an important person, and friend in
my life. We would meet and have dinners, shoot b-ball, or throw around a
baseball. He was full of energy, humor and just a one-of-a-kind type of guy. He
showed a lot of support to me as well. We would talk every day, until the calls
stopped and I would learn that it usually meant a relapse. Then. I would
receive a call 6-months later and he was ready to meet up, hit a few meetings
and work on his recovery.
Things got weird in 2020 for all
of us, but somehow, after some time passed, we would meet up and sit outside, safely,
a good 15 feet from one another. During this time, he was in-and-out of
recovery, and as they say, once you go out, it’s hard to get back in. We still stayed
in touch until May of this year, and then, once again the contact stopped. Often
Waylon was on my mind, but I didn’t reach out, until about a month ago, but the
texts weren’t returned and the calls went straight to voicemail.
This past weekend was a pretty
difficult one for many personal reasons, but I’ve been told to reach out to
others who may need help. Once more, I texted Waylon, and tried to call---right
to voicemail again. Then I decided to just get in my car and drive to his house,
thinking worst case scenario might be that he was having a hell of a relapse. I kept having the strange feeling that it was
worse, that Waylon was dead.
His girlfriend Jane answered the
door, and when I asked if Waylon was there, her face dropped. “He’s not here,
and oh…you haven’t heard…,” and were then, suddenly in that space. I
think we all know that space where you don’t want to talk, but it’s
important, painful, and awkward that you do. So, Jane and I spoke on the front
steps of a house I’d been to many, many times for about twenty minutes. She
told me that he didn’t die from drugs, or alcohol but from a head injury,
causing a brain bleed from a fall at around 6 AM on October 23, nearly six weeks
ago. The details are few, but apparently after the fall, he called the police
in a very disoriented state, not knowing where he was at all. He needed their
help to tell him, as he couldn’t tell them where he was, and they could not
figure it out either. By the time they found him, he was unconscious and needed
a MedEvac to get him into Boston. Where he was found was an area that was known
to be a very rough place. He never came to. He was 42.
Would a check-in have helped?
Perhaps, but only if the assumption was that the rough location was an intended
place to score drugs. Even then, a check-in may not have stopped him. Still,
given those low parameters, 10% of a defense, is better than zero, but I
believed Jane when she said he had been doing well and was clean. I want to
believe that life hadn’t taken him back to that dark place, that we all in the
program know all about.
Something though didn’t feel
right. The Walpole Police still have his phone and other belongings as part of
an ongoing investigation. Why would that be. Perhaps Waylon was mugged and the
blow to the head was not from a fall? I don’t know---and I don’t really want to
know. It doesn’t matter.
When I got back home, I searched
the internet to see if there had been a service or not. I found the obituary
and also watched the 15-minute video of his life that was on the site. After holding it together with Jane earlier, I completely lost it and sobbed for a long time. These are the times when I usually say, "I'm broken." After, I drove to my 12-Step meeting, because that helps me not drink or use, still
crying while driving. Some people at the meeting knew Waylon, but most of them
asked me if it was drugs or alcohol that killed him. I found myself responding,
“What the fuck does it matter?” the bluntness catching me by surprise. Honestly,
it shouldn’t matter, but those in recovery want to somehow reinforce their
ability to live by associating the worst of those who don’t make it. I didn’t
want to talk about that specifically as I said earlier, what the fuck does it
matter?
So, back to check-ins, and their
importance, even if this example may not support the need for them directly.
They are important! Very often we have no idea that people are struggling. Whether
it be family issues, or depression—or just about anything, nothing is as
important as someone reaching to see how you are doing. I know about this first
hand, when I’m walking through difficult terrain, the difference in people
reaching out vs. not. Nothing is worse than sitting with things by yourself,
alone with them those destructive thoughts and feelings. Life is short, so mend
bridges, and reach out to those you care about.
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