It quickly came to me and my mind raced to recall each and every detail. It was so powerful and intense that I wanted to experience it again. If only I could fall asleep and continue the moment, I would have.
Two years and two months since my brother's death, he will occasionally appear to me in a dream. It is so rare, and so powerful, that it often sets me back in my grief. Seeing his blue eyes and hearing his voice so vividly remind me of what is missing from my life; my little brother, my friend.
In the dream, Matt had never died. He had faked his death and was still with us. I lost my temper, pounded on his chest, and called him a bad person repeatedly. He wasn't fazed by my anger and laughed and teased me until I calmed down. This was a technique that he had always been so skilled at...one that probably made his girlfriends even crazier than it made his sisters. He charmed his way out of catastrophe, countless times.
Matt could not charm his way out of the catastrophe of heroin, because he was an addict. It was the one dangerous, crazy, mind-altering act that he could not twinkle his blue eyes at, joke into friendship, wrap in his arms and love, or grip in his hands and fix.
He didn't fake his death, and he isn't still with us. The dream was just a dream.
In other dreams that I have had of Matt, there has been symbolism, metaphors, and sometimes even a little inspiration from my baby brother. I desperately searched for some meaning in this particular dream, something that he or God wanted to tell me. I simply could not come up with anything. Instead, my mind began to focus on the meaning, severity, and pull of addiction.
I know what it feels like to come home from a long night of parent-teacher conferences and pour a glass of red wine. I understand the way the alcohol almost instantly calms shaken nerves and slows a racing mind. I know how it feels to do a kickboxing class, punch a little too hard, and wake up the next morning knowing that the pain of the pulled muscle will take my breath away. I am thankful for the way a Vicodin will ease that intensity and allow me to breathe through the initial trauma. I've been put under anesthesia several times for my fertility procedures. I know how one little needle being inserted into my hand can put me to sleep instantly so that I do not feel the physical pain of the procedure, despite the emotional pain it causes me.
I understand the desire to be numb, or high, or happy, or to simply be put to sleep. It is depressingly honest to say that losing rational thought sometimes sounds beautiful. That is also my limited understanding of the power of addiction.
I understand the peace that comes from a mind numbed by a substance when one is in the midst of pain. However, I also have seen the fear that comes from a loss of control, the surrender to something that will take a 27-year-old man from his family and friends. There is no peace in that.
There is no peace in a mind so altered that it has lost control. I understand, but I am angry.
And then I walked away from this post for several days...
...and went to the Daley Center in Chicago for jury duty. There, a homeless woman sat with her coffee cups, shopping cart, lottery tickets, and her sun worn face looked around expectantly for a friend as she quietly mumbled to herself. She was so clearly intoxicated on that cold Wednesday morning...
...and had tea with my friend Nancy who confided in me about her stepson and his struggle with addiction to alcohol, his homelessness, and the destruction that he is bringing on his family...
...and finally, I sat at my favorite bar on a Thursday night with Jeremiah and we split a burger and quesadillas. I had my glass of red wine by the fire with the last sets of white twinkle lights still out and shining happily from a corner Christmas tree. The red wine instantly calmed my shaken nerves and slowed my racing mind...
...and I told Jeremiah about the blog post that I had started about addiction on the previous Sunday that I could not finish. We talked about the homeless woman at the Daley Center, and my friend's stepson. We talked about how seeing the young lawyers at jury duty had been difficult for me as I felt the devastation that Matt was not with them, practicing law, loving his chosen profession that he had wanted so badly and worked so hard to earn. We talked about how addiction had ruined all of his hopes and dreams.
Jeremiah reminded me of the story of the Pharisees. Over my glass of red wine and his beer, he retold the story of the men who wanted to condemn. Jesus wrote in the dirt and then told the men standing there whoever was without sin to cast the first stone. The oldest men walked away first as they knew that they had committed the most sins. The middle aged men stepped away next, and the youngest last.
Nobody knows what Jesus wrote in the sand when he told the men to throw stones. What we do know is that no one was so flawless that they were able to cast the first stone.
John 8:7 says:
When they kept questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw the stone at her."
We all have sin. Whether we shot heroin, lied, cheated, intentionally hurt, or doubted it is all dark to God. The greatest gift of all that He gave us is His forgiveness, but also the ability to forgive others.
The sin in our lives, it can break the hearts of those around us. Matt's addiction broke my heart, over and over. He didn't do it on purpose, but it hurt me every day that he was sick. Addiction will do that to the people who surround the addict; it will break their hearts.
I let go of the anger and replace it with understanding. Understanding brings peace.
We are a a work in progress, constantly needing to redeem ourselves, smooth our flaws, and ask for forgiveness. We have to hold love at a higher esteem than anger, as withholding forgiveness can be as toxic as an addiction to heroin.
Heroin was toxic and powerful, but LOVE is stronger. My love for Matt remains and the power of the drug died when Matt met Jesus in Heaven.
I will meet him there as well. We will have forgiveness, a warm hug, and I will see long lost twinkling blue eyes. In Heaven, there will be no need for a glass of red wine to calm my shaken nerves or slow my racing mind.
