a year ago, i dreamt for a couple weeks about something tragic before it happened: hannah’s death.
hannah lived in the living room and kept to herself most of the time, especially if she was using or if her closest friends weren’t around. i don’t know why she was so distant to me even when i opened up to her. i felt for her; i know addiction is a beast and i didn’t want it to consume her. but i kept my distance, and when dreaming of her passing, it drove me crazy. i frantically told friends (who typically take heed) of said dreams but everyone assured me: everything was okay, hannah was being looked after and nothing would happen; “hannah has been sober X-amount of days, everything will be okay, myra, stop worrying.” ….i tried to explain to others (younger friends and acquaintances who simply didn’t know better) that we weren’t dealing with what we know as sweet hannah joseph, but rathera monster called opiate addiction.
i left that house, uneasy but hopeful..
why did i leave? i felt so guilty that i did not stay and look after her -even when it was never my place. that’s a hard realization that has never sunk in: nobody could save her, it just is.
and i remember her laugh.
her brilliant mind.
her contagious wildness.
i remember those dreams and how horribly real they felt.
but i’ll never forget the horrible shock we all went through discovering that hannah joseph would no longer laugh or share with us on this planet. i’m still experiencing this shock, not 11 months after, and i still wish there was anything i could’ve done or any way i could’ve saved her from herself. from addiction.
i’ll admit, i feel out of the loop with hannah’s true friends, because i didn’t know her terribly well, had only met her a couple months before her passing.. but i have a weight that i feel and an undeniable connection to hannah joseph. and i won’t ever forget her because her death truly marked a huge crossroads in my life.
i won’t be able to forget,
but i pray i can let go of any unhealthy emotions i still cling to.
like feeling guilty that i’m still mourning her death, alone -having not known her that well. or feeling guilty that i could’ve done something (and did not).
like the obligation i felt to save another friend who relapsed the same weekend hannah did…
i cannot save that other friend,
i’ve since abandoned that obligatory feeling -an obligation i feel i am living up to for hannah’s sake, not for the sake of my ill, drug-addicted friend.
but it’s not my duty to save you,
no matter how much i love you
and cannot stand to live without you.
i’m sorry, friend, i’m doing what i can.