A MEMORY

A MEMORY:

On January 6th, 2009 I woke up before the sun to go to my parents house. My dad and I were going to pick up Addison from his apartment and take him to UT for his orientation. I graduated from UT and Addison wanted me to come with him because I knew my way around the huge campus. Having always been in a small private school I'm sure he just wanted a little reassurance that if I was with him he wouldn't get lost trying to get from place to place. My dad and I were both sleepy; driving to get him we talked a little about when my dad went to UT, and we were both happy that Addison would be a UT alumni too just like us.
Addison had asked that I call him and make sure he was awake before we got there - because he had SUCH a hard time waking up. I had called and called the entire 10 minute ride over and no one answered. I was getting annoyed and thought, well at least we are early since he OBVIOUSLY isn't awake, and we will still have time to get there.
I didn't have a key to Addison's apartment so was forced to stand outside in the cold of January and beat on his door with both fists trying to rouse him, hoping that I wasn't also waking every other neighbor in the vicinity.
After a few minutes Addison appeared at the front door. He was not in his pajamas, but his regular clothes, which it was apparent to me that he had slept in them so that he wouldn't have to take the time that morning to actually "get dressed." The clothes were wrinkled and unkempt - they looked like they had been slept in! But my mind pushed past how disheveled he looked when I saw his face.
This was more than "I just woke up." This was something completely different that "I'm SO not a morning person." Something was wrong. His eyes were at half mast with deep dark circles under them. He said "hey" and walked back towards his room. But he wasn't walking well. He swayed back and forth, hitting his shoulder on the door frame as he turned the corner into his room.
I was angry. I told him that I had called a hundred times and had to beat on the door for 5 minutes, and he obviously didn't look right - "What are you ON Addison?!!!!!!" His response was a slurred, "NOTHING! I don't know what you're talking about."
This was the first and one of the ONLY times that I actually SAW with my own eyes Addison not walking or talking normally. This was the first sign that he had taken something, it was drugs, it was serious, though I had no idea WHAT drug it could be.
I followed him to the bathroom and watched him slowly struggle to get toothpaste on his toothbrush, and he then proceeded to brush his teeth slowly and ineffectively. When he was finished he put both hands on the bathroom counter and bent his head down towards me. He said in a lethargic and slurred voice "Jessica, will you please brush my hair?"
I did, as the wave of sadness and panic rushed through me all at once.
I grabbed his pack back as he tried to mix hershey's syrup into a big glass of milk, spilling most of it on the counter. I stormed down the stairs with him slowly following. I threw his bag in the back seat, got in the front with my dad and screamed with a huff, "He doesn't need school, he needs REHAB!!!!!"
My dad saw it immediately and I spent the day following Addison around and seeing the fury on my dad's face. Little did I know what would happen that same night.

I have spent most of my time on this page talking about being OPEN and HONEST. My mom always says, when someone dies, it seems that they are elevated to "sainthood" and people talk only about how wonderful and loving they were, forgetting the bad memories as if they never happened. No matter what he did, none of us EVER loved Addison any less. But everything wasn't roses and daisy's. There were bad memories too. This is one of them. If I'm honest about how wonderful he truly was, I must be honest about the horrible times as well. To say that he died of a drug overdose, but only talk about how funny, and handsome, and smart he was isn't telling the whole story. We had MANY more good memories than bad, but like the rest of us, he wasn't perfect. I share this horrible memory to keep with the authenticity of my page in telling everyone NOT to be afraid to talk about their experiences. This memory was an experience of mine that I wish I never had to live - but I happened, so I must tell the WHOLE story, not just the good parts.
And I know that by telling this no one will think that it makes it any easier without him, or that for one second I love him any less because of it. I still miss him everyday, and would do anything if I could to have him back ♥