Thinking About Rodney

Yesterday, while I was driving home from somewhere, I heard "The Rose" by Bette Midler. I hadn't heard it in years, and I found myself driving along, crying about my brother for the first time in about a year.

Rodney died in August of 2005, but it was around this time in 2005 that he was nearing the end of his life. After a massive drug overdose, and close to 6 weeks of up and down deterioration, we decided that he would be taken off life support. At this time two years ago, we hadn't yet made that decision, but we were close.
Two years ago, Kelly and I were going to move to Maine. As a way to get us all together and to save money on the movers, I had asked my brothers to help us move. The deal was that we would pay for their flights and they would be our heavy lifters. We had it all mapped out. And it was perfect - we would all end up being together for a little bit of a family reunion.

Instead, Kelly got a great job offer and we ended up not moving to Maine. Rather than cancel the trip, we all agreed to still get together in Maine. Matt and Rodney planned this really cool multiple day journey to Boston with their respective girlfriends. It was going to be a great time.

But before that could happen, Rodney had his drug overdose. We all flew to West Palm Beach thinking that he was going to die (that is what the doctors had told us). He didn't die. Not yet. I left after two days, because I was so angry that I couldn't be near him. I was so frustrated that he had done this to himself. But that is another story.

Instead of canceling the trip to Maine, Matt and I still went. Rodney was in a skilled nursing facility at the time, as it looked like he might have some sort of recovery. The brain works in mysterious ways and apparently the cells take a while to die, even after they have been permanently and irreparable damaged. For 6 weeks, we didn't know what would happen. He was on state aide, so the bounced him around to skilled nursing facilities and then back to the hospital when he started to deteriorate more. The bitch of it all is that we are not rich, and couldn't spend the money to be with him. Eventually, we had to go back to our respective lives. He was all alone down there, in a persistive vegetative state.

Anyway, so Matt and I ended up in Maine for what was supposed to be a family reunion. It didn't feel like much of a reunion. A day into the trip, Mom got a call from a hospice nurse who happened to be working a shift at the hospital Rodney was staying at. After a long conversation with her, and then long conversations with Matt and I, we all decided that Rodney would not want to be kept alive by artificial means. He was too vibrant in life to "live" that way.

So we went back to West Palm Beach. The three of us spent 10 days with him in hospice while he wasted away. We watched him die and then we watched him rot. I say it that way because in the beginning, you could still tell there was life in his body. His spirit hadn't left yet. I swear, there were moments when I was sitting by his bed and holding his hand and talking to him that I would look into his eyes and he was there. I remember thinking, "Dear God, his spirit is trapped in this dying body. He needs to be free." I remember grieving, knowing that I would never hear his voice again.

I can't remember at what point I realized that Rodney was gone. What I remember is that the room stopped feeling like a peaceful place of dying and started feeling like a tomb. The smells changed from our normal smells to that of death and decay. It started to feel creepy, where before it had felt peaceful. I would leave and go out and smoke more often. Sitting outside in that horrible, hot and humid air, I would stare into the sky and try to soak up as much heat and life as I could. Walking back into that dark, cold room was so hard. They kept it very cold in there. To keep the smell of death to a minimum, I suspect. I would look at my brother, with his head cocked back at an unnatural angle, the skin on his lips peeling away from lack of water, his skin turning pasty and gray and sinking into his face, and wonder how I would ever recover from seeing that.

Eventually, I had to leave. Leave the hospice. Leave the state. I had to come back home, to my wife's arms. To the only place that felt warm to me. I needed to be reheated from the inside. I needed for her to reach through the pain of that experience and remind me that death was not coming and that I was still alive.

I left before Rodney's body died. I left on a Wednesday. I returned to work on Thursday. On Friday, at about 3:30 in the afternoon, I got a call from my mother that Rodney's body had finally given up and he was gone. It was August 5th. I walked from work to meet Kelly. We went out to dinner - PF Changs and I drank a mixed berry martini. I remember every minute of that walk, of the dinner, of the martini. I remember that I felt numb, and how blissful it felt to feel that way. I had been so consumed and every emotion had felt like it was on overdrive for so many days. With his death, I was finally able to let go and begin to accept that he was gone.

This picture was taken at my graduation in May of 2002. It was the last time we were all together. Rodney came to visit me in DC early in 2003. In June of 2004, he overdosed on drugs and we all flew to West Palm Beach. He made a full recovery that time. In June of 2005, he overdosed on drugs again, and I never heard his voice again.

I miss him everyday. I wish that he hadn't lived so hard. I wish that he could meet Bailey. I wish that he had a chance to find real, lasting love. I wish that we had spent more time together and that our relationship hadn't been so rocky. I wish I hadn't felt so angry when he died. I wish that his death hadn't been so incredibly visual. I wish that I could remember him, without remembering the way that he died.

Most of all, I wish him peace. Where ever you are, whatever happens in the end, I hope that you have found peace, big brother.

The Rose - Bette Midler

Some say love it is a river
that drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razer
that leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love it is a hunger
an endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
and you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
who cannot seem to give
and the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed
that with the sun's love
in the spring
becomes the rose