To: Adam Love: Your Buddy Jake

Mitch Albom wrote, “Death ends a life, not a relationship”, in his book Tuesdays with Morrie, and I couldn’t agree more. In this last year a lot has happened and I’ve talked to you about most of the events or situations that have arrived into my life like a ’69 Chevelle driving into an oak tree at 60 mph. It’s been hectic man. I’ve started secluding myself again, like I was doing when we first became friends. Don’t count me out though, I’ve gotten a sponsor and started back at meetings but there’s still that emptiness inside, that emptiness we used to talk about. That emptiness you admitted you felt too.

I had to go to work that Monday without you and it pissed me off that I didn’t see your big ass squeezing beside whatever victim you could find that left their seat empty besides them on the shuttle bus, while I always took that vacant seat in the last row. All those days afterwards I couldn’t stop envisioning you sitting there in front of me, drinking your morning energy drink and scrolling through your phone. That first day at work without you I had to answer to the guys, whether they called the night before to confirm your death or not and when our boss arrived he pulled me off the staging for over an hour, crying and swearing as he did, and he came up with a plan to leave your daughter money for Christmas. Towards the end of that day I tore my work pants- right smack dab down the center of the crotch- just as you had a couple weeks earlier. I pictured you posted up against a street sign- posed like a female hitch hiker- while all the business men and woman in Boston ran past to their destinations while on their lunch break. And the looks they gave you while you tried stopping them to say hello; God it made me smile for the first time in those 24 hours after you were found. Then I became angry. I was angry towards you a lot those first few weeks. It was a selfish anger and I’m sorry for that. I missed you buddy, I missed those rides into work together and our lunch breaks we spent tormenting random people on Canal St. I missed talking about the women in our lives or how you wanted your daughter to have this special Christmas- spoiling her the way she deserves to be spoiled, you said. I remember that because I asked you how she deserved to be spoiled and your answer was, “She deserves to be spoiled with anything she wants in this world.” I was angry that you didn’t spoil her the way we talked about but I tried helping out with some of my check going to her, cause I know you’d have appreciated that. And I know she deserved it after everything wonderful you told me about her.

I also began dating this amazing woman, whom you knew well also, and we talked a lot about you. She missed you too, man. Lots… and though it didn’t work out, she’s doing better then she ever had before in life and is sincerely happy. I know you’d be proud of her like I am. Your crew of friends stayed tight and supported each other from what I could see. I know that as upset as they were, they were grateful to have been able to call you a friend. We all are grateful in that sense. But one year later we all still miss you and your giant frame and even bigger heart. I just wish that that heart of yours loved yourself as much as we loved you.

Sometimes I wonder if you’ll be standing there when I arrive, along with my Ma, nana, and childhood friend Dicky, pulling me in for a giant embrace and speaking to me with non sense words like, “shhhaaamoooaan shhhaaamoooaan” and laughing that laugh that haunted me those first few nights I’d sit inside my head- cutting the world off again- only really talking to one person about how I felt. But that she’ll of mine you broke apart and convinced me to walk out of stayed in my past, and I talked to people like you urged and got involved in our homegroup like you advised. The honest attempts you made to be my friend I will never forget. I accomplished goals we set together. When I accomplished them I thought of you. I think about you more then you’d think and I don’t know why, but I do. I picture you entering the room and being loud and getting me to laugh- something I thought I couldn’t do anymore. Man, I miss you and love you big guy. Keep on looking out for all of us; a big task since you had so many friends who loved you, but I’m sure that giant heart of yours still has enough room for all of us. Thank you, Adam. Thank you.

Author: Jake Mitchell

Writing nonfictional & brutally honest experiences, stories, & events, from my life; both before, during, and following my intense destruction of myself and the people who were around me. All because I lived a life of lies, manipulation, and self-imprisonment, just a few of the many truths when you're an Active Addict. Although I'm very blunt, I tend to (or at least try to) write as humble, selfless, & full of gratitude, while sharing some of the tragedies and situations which most likely occured due to my addiction and the way I exsisted during that time of my life, as I only cared about and fiened for my next high or score. Please comment on any material I post. Although I'm quite ashamed and embarrassed for most of the actions, decisions, and outcomes, that happened during my torturous years of Active Addiction, I don't regret any of it. Now, by writing about these true stories and events, I'm hopeful another addict can relate to my pain, distress, and the Hell of using drugs. This HELL, becomes therapeutic and important for my recovery, reminding me that I am not the o my person who has ever done or thought these things. And through relating, I may be able to help another addict.

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