| WHAT
WAS HE LIKE you ask. He was a beautiful gentle soul.
Physically, he was tall and slim, with broad shoulders
and slim hips, shoulder-length dark blond hair he vowed
never to cut. He did not express his feelings or emotions
much verbally but could choose to write loving cards
and a touch of his hand spoke volumes. He was a talented
sportsman having played representative soccer and golf.
People easily gravitated to him. That's what he was
like, but I haven't seen him for five years and two
months.
My
son died at approximately 5.30 pm on 23 July 1994
at the age of 23 years from a heroin overdose. He
was living with his girlfriend who was with him at
the time. They shared a dose. She slipped into a deep
sleep and he slipped into death. They had gone out
the night before with people whom my son worked with.
He apparently did not want to go out but they had
been joshing him that he was `a bit of a wus' for
not wanting to go out without his girlfriend. He finally
gave in on the condition that she meet him after work
and accompany him. When they met that night she said
that he was the happiest she had seen him for a long
time.
Having
to get public transport home the next day, they alighted
at Cabramatta thinking that as they had such a good
night, why not prolong it and just get one hit of
heroin to share, just one more time. But by the time
they had arrived home approximately at 5.00 pm they
were tired and did not feel like the heroin BUT it
was there. From 5.30 pm the anxiety that I had had
from the night before dissipated. By then my son was
already dying or had died and I, his mother, six blocks
away, was cooking dinner having convinced myself that
as always I was making mountains out of molehills.
The
ambulance officer who called at 9.10 pm asked if I
was Mrs . . . My heart and soul knew. But on arriving
at the house, nothing at all prepared me for the fact
that he died using heroin Änor his lifeless form.
I held him despite being told that it was not allowed,
as everything had to remain as found because of the
impending autopsy. I knew my son had used speed and
marijuana but I believed that that was in the past.
Why would he need to use now that he had a job he
liked and had set up home with his girlfriend? Sure,
I knew that he had learnt no coping mechanisms having
started using alcohol and dope to cope with pain and
unexpressed emotions from the age of 16. Had he not
told me often enough that dope was safe and I just
didn't know what life was about and had never really
lived? He was rightÄI died that moment before I learnt
to live.
I
learnt many unwanted things from his death. I also
learnt that I didn't really know about love. That
love was so strong, so deep a human emotion that it
could rip out your heart and soul and change your
life forever, and that it was the most powerful of
human emotions. I realised what unconditional love
was really about and that not even death could break
that bond of love between a mother and child.
The
textbooks are wrongÄthe pain does not lessen in time
and reappear at unexpected moments with a pang. You
have to learn to accept it as part of your being and
in time manage to live your life around the pain.
Life has changed. It can make you bitter and full
of hatred. In my case, I choose to use the abundance
of love still left and re-route it to people who may
benefit from it, and there are many. I thank Aaron
for this legacy and for helping make me a more loving,
compassionate and tolerant human being.
Karmen
Hill
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