Morgan
Last night my cousin, Morgan Radcliff, died. He was 22. His older sister Megan found him at home and immediately called their parents, who were across the country in San Francisco when it had happened.
Morgan had two of the best parents I've ever seen, and had always been remarkably smart as we'd grown up. Why someone with so much potential and support turns to drugs and alcohol completely throws me. He had been in rehab and outwardly seemed to have gotten himself back on track. Apparently he hadn't.
Morgan's MySpace account shows a guy in need of help. His eyes are glassy and remote, and every photo features him with either large bottles in his hand, or a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His "Heroes" section lists The Rolling Stones "for how long they've been getting high and stayed alive to talk about it".
I can't imagine what my uncle Rod is going through right now. In less than a year he's lost his older brother and his youngest son, and now must scramble to schedule a funeral.
Rod was the uncle who had put together a hard-bound book about my dad's life and had mailed it to us for Christmas. It was obvious how emotionally exhausting it was for him to make that book. Now he's lost Morgan, too.
Mortality is a scary fucking thing. My senior year of high school, one of my classmates died after snorting his mother's medication. I remember going to the funeral and looking in the casket, seeing how young Alex was. Recognizing how fragile people are. That's a difficult realization to shake. I don't think we're supposed to.
Morgan had two of the best parents I've ever seen, and had always been remarkably smart as we'd grown up. Why someone with so much potential and support turns to drugs and alcohol completely throws me. He had been in rehab and outwardly seemed to have gotten himself back on track. Apparently he hadn't.
Morgan's MySpace account shows a guy in need of help. His eyes are glassy and remote, and every photo features him with either large bottles in his hand, or a cigarette dangling from his mouth. His "Heroes" section lists The Rolling Stones "for how long they've been getting high and stayed alive to talk about it".
I can't imagine what my uncle Rod is going through right now. In less than a year he's lost his older brother and his youngest son, and now must scramble to schedule a funeral.
Rod was the uncle who had put together a hard-bound book about my dad's life and had mailed it to us for Christmas. It was obvious how emotionally exhausting it was for him to make that book. Now he's lost Morgan, too.
Mortality is a scary fucking thing. My senior year of high school, one of my classmates died after snorting his mother's medication. I remember going to the funeral and looking in the casket, seeing how young Alex was. Recognizing how fragile people are. That's a difficult realization to shake. I don't think we're supposed to.