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    jkeele777
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A letter to Billy - 4. Chapter 4

Dear Billy,

 

I can't believe it has been seven months since I saw your smiling face, sitting here at the same table where I am now, typing this letter you'll never read. We were getting stoned, of course, and you were having another one of your soapbox moments. I took this picture of you with my phone:

 

CAM00312.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, this was unacceptable, and earned me this look:

CAM00311.jpg

 

 

I saw these the other day,and have not been able to get you off my mind. You're still the first one I think of when I have some kind of important news, and I guess for certain things, you'll always be my first thought. I have so much to tell you. So much has happened since Christmas, I don't know where to start . I guess I will start with what I know about your family, which is basically good. Kim has gotten married again, and lies in a house you guys grew up in. She says it's ironic that you left us right after she moved back home. since you two were never in the same placed long. Your Mom is adjusting, but I won't say she's happy. Brad was pretty wiped out, and I haven't really seen him smile much, but I hear he is getting better.

 

Your Dad, well, your Dad is a mess, baby. I'm sorry, but I don't think he's going to get past finding you. He doesn't talk much to anyone, and he's just not there anymore. I mean, he is physically there, of course, but Raymond, you know, HIM, that's gone.


My Mick hasn't been the same, of course, but since you saw him last the last time you were here, that shouldn't surprise you. You know how very much he loved you, and valued your presence and your little ways of keeping him tethered. He said you kept him attached to reality some days, and I know that was true for me as well. I know it's shitty of me to lay all this on you, like this, but quite frankly, a good deal of it is because of your actions. It seems to me that people are finding their way past or through their issues.


I have done better since the last time I wrote, but I'm still not there yet. I'm doing a lot better with the dope, though, so that's the one thing I have to be proud of lately. I'm still using though, even if it is only once a day or so. I've been looking for work again, although after two years off, I have pretty much lost hope of ever finding anything decent in my field that will pay me enough to live. Things are still looking pretty bleak for me and Mick, but we are trying. Sometimes I am not sure why we bother, but we are trying to get along, because we are basically all the other has, as sad as that statement makes us both seem.


Mick of the North, our intrepid friend of Wise county, still comes to see us now and then. He was here last weekend and got blotto with me. I haven't seen Heather since long before the funeral, so I haven't been able to ask about the kids or anything. I mean, I suppose I could ask Nanook, of course, since they are his kids to, but we don't talk about such things. He and I tend to talk about you, or about things we want to do, but probably will never be able to, like visiting all of the giant waterfalls in the world. or smoking a joint at Jim Morrisons grave, or at Stonhenge.


Well, kiddo, as much as I hate to cut this off, it has taken me two days to get this far, and I have to go. It has offically been seven months to the day since we buried you, and I am pretty sure at this point that I will miss you for the rest of my life. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you, and wonder what you would have thought of something, or how you would have reacted to someone or something I saw. I love ya, kid, now and forever.


Love Always,


Jeremy

Copyright © 2014 jkeele777; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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When you think of it, seven months isn't long at all. You guys are all doing the best you can.

 

Jeremy, I don't remember if I asked you this in a previous review, so if I did I apologize. Do any of you guys or Billy's parents go to therapy? That might really help, especially for Billy's dad. Therapy may be able to help him pick up the pieces.

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On 03/01/2014 06:36 PM, Lisa said:
When you think of it, seven months isn't long at all. You guys are all doing the best you can.

 

Jeremy, I don't remember if I asked you this in a previous review, so if I did I apologize. Do any of you guys or Billy's parents go to therapy? That might really help, especially for Billy's dad. Therapy may be able to help him pick up the pieces.

Lisa,

I had not even thought of mentioning this to my therapist, although he knows that Billy killed himself. I have only spoken to his parents twice, but knowing his Dad, I really doubt he has seen anyone, a least voluntarily. It just isn't his style. As for me, I have been talking to someone once a week for quite some time now, dealing with other issues stemming from my mothers many husbands, my own addictions and various other things. I will talk to him about this when I see him this week. Perhaps you are right!!

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