I Am Glad I Stayed Home

My sister came back to my house before the funeral even started yesterday. 

Apparently they had B's hair slicked back, his beard braided to the side like it was in the hospital for the trach, and the put him in a long sleeved gray shirt that he would have never worn in life. 

B always had a long and crazy beard. His hair was wild. He liked to show his ink, or he was wearing his blue plaid overshirt with an old beat up concert t-shirt underneath. 

This is the B I remember. The brilliant artist that liked to scat, bebop and sing while he worked. 

This is the guy I remember, who liked to go to concerts, party with his buddies.

L to R: Keith, Patrick, and Brian

That person my sister described to me is not him. It's just not him. He wouldn't have wanted his ink covered. He wouldn't have wanted the stitches where his trach was sewn shut to be showing. They could have at least had the decency to cover it with a flesh toned bandage. 

They didn't put his jewelry on him. He always wore an onyx ring that had to be cut off in the hospital when his fingers started to swell. They weren't going to cremate him with it. His mother, who has not been in his life for almost ten years, came in and took it. She said she wanted him to look as he did because she wanted to remember her baby like he was before he passed. 

Not as B, but as a man dying in a hospital bed. 

My sister took her to task, right there in the funeral home. She wanted to put his jewelry back on him. She wanted to take his beard down like he always wore it. His mother would not give in, so my sister basically told her to fuck off and came back to my house where we cried it out. 

Last night all of the people that loved him the most (ie not his family) got together out at the prairie and did a bonfire for him. My poor sister was so hung over this morning XD She doesn't drink often, and her boyfriend made her Captain and Coke (with more Captain than Coke) so she was a hot mess this morning. 

We also had a talk with our friend who is dealing with issues of her own with a loved one with drug abuse. We are all a big family, blood doesn't matter. We don't want to see the other loved one in the same situation as B. 

I can't stress this enough; if you have someone who is dealing with addiction, please get them help. Don't let them fall into the same trap that B did, dying in a hospital after his body just gave up from too much abuse. 

It's so hard to beat, but it's possible. I did it. I was never into IV drug use because I hate needles, but I used to love my opiates. I even thought about hurting myself just to go back into the hospital so I could get more opiates. 

Thankfully I have a very supportive family and a big sister who would kick my ass if I ever dreamed of harming myself to get a fix. 

Just thinking about it has given me a migraine again. 

I just feel better knowing that B isn't in pain, but he'd be pissed with the way the funeral turned out.