The loss of a friend...
There was a sadness at Faith House tonight.
I didn't know James' story but he had friends at the homeless men's drop in that I help out at on Monday evenings. James was someone who had moved on from where a lot of the men find themselves. He had been there and 'come through'; he even helped out in the kitchen cooking the food for the guys as they gathered as family.
Apparently James had been clean of drugs for some time, but James died last week, of a perhaps a drugs overdose, or a pretty potent batch that he was unused to. I could tell those who thought much of him, they were quiet and left early.
There was a sadness at Faith House tonight.
I didn't know James' story but he had friends at the homeless men's drop in that I help out at on Monday evenings. James was someone who had moved on from where a lot of the men find themselves. He had been there and 'come through'; he even helped out in the kitchen cooking the food for the guys as they gathered as family.
Apparently James had been clean of drugs for some time, but James died last week, of a perhaps a drugs overdose, or a pretty potent batch that he was unused to. I could tell those who thought much of him, they were quiet and left early.
There was a sadness at Faith House tonight.
Comments
Of course we grieve for the loss of someone we cared about, but we may also lose a bit of hope ourselves, which can be damaging if you didn't much of it to start with.
There is also that sense of sorrow that you didn't know that someone so close to you was reaching the end of their tether. You feel guilty for not picking up the signs, but angry as well that the person didn't (a) think to share with you or (b) consider you worth living for.
When my (alcoholic) father took his own life several years ago, I spent much time wondering what it must have been like in those last moments when he was in such a dark place that he couldn't raise enough curiosity to see if tomorrow mightn't be better.
It leaves one feeling hollow.