Chad Ostreko (1/2/81 - 8/4/06)
Three years ago today(!!!!!), my friend Chad Ostreko took his own life. Suffering from bi-polar disorder, forced to return to his home (and away from the love of his life), trying to numb his pain through drug use, Chad was dealing with more than a twenty-five year old man should ever have to deal with.
Yes, others are dealing with more than he had to. Yes, his story has been told repeatedly by others who survive the experience, stronger and better able to cope with the world.
But this isn't about them. This isn't about the survivors and the ones who lived.
This is about one who didn't. Chad was a little brother of sorts, who introduced me to music I hadn't paid any attention to and discovered I loved. He was an old soul, cliché as that sounds, who loved experimental jazz as well as contemporary pop. Chad was a poet. Chad was also desperately insecure about himself and had terribly low self-esteem. His drug use was an attempt to fit in, but he never did it around me. He smoked, heavily (the nicotine probably helped him to relax, although that's just supposition). We would sit for hours, listening to music and just talking. He would tell me about his dreams and aspirations. He would confide in his love life. He wanted approval. He wanted to feel special. He wanted to be loved. Sound familiar?
Chad was an everyman, but he was special. He was loved. He just didn't think he was deserving of it. He wanted to be in Southern California, but couldn't afford it by himself and his parents weren't interested in supporting him (and his smoking/drug/alcohol habits) while at college.
Back in the Chicago suburbs with his parents, he felt isolated and alone. His bi-polar issues resurfaced with a fierce determination that fed on his deep sadness, low self-worth and need for love. In the end, Chad's greatest fear came to pass. He died alone. I suspect he felt as if he deserved it. He couldn't have been more wrong, but I couldn't tell him this. When he was taken back to Illinois, he lost all contact with those of us who cared about him here in Southern California.
In many ways, Chad is still with me and I make every attempt to honor him. Despair and low self-esteem can be debilitating, especially to those who feel they deserve the pain they feel. With no hope, there is little desire to escape that pain. The only escape is the final escape into eternal darkness.
Chad's pain is gone. But for those of us who held him in higher regard than he held himself, for those of us who were touched by this sensitive, funny, yet horribly sad soul, the pain lingers. Three years. My God, I can still see his face, hear his voice, feel his sadness. The music he introduced me to keeps him alive in my heart. Damn, I miss him and hate that he's gone.
Chad's memory remains alive in a couple of creations. A part of him exists with me in the world of Eberron as a plucky Halfling who worships the goddess of fortune. Ironic that, but in this universe, I felt it appropriate. Another part of him exists as an agent in the world of EVE Online who works for a corporation determined to create new technologies for clones and artificial intelligence to machines. Again, there is a certain sense of irony in that, though perhaps a bit more obscure than the first example.
In any event, I am dedicating today to my friend Chad Ostreko, who would have been 28 this year. I want to do something creative…something wonderful. I want him to know I miss him. I think he would have liked that. Chad was a romantic, after all.
EDIT: An online obituary claims he died on 8/3. So, there may be some dispute on exactly what day he passed away (from my perspective). Suffice it to say that, whichever day it was, I mourne his loss.
Yes, others are dealing with more than he had to. Yes, his story has been told repeatedly by others who survive the experience, stronger and better able to cope with the world.
But this isn't about them. This isn't about the survivors and the ones who lived.
This is about one who didn't. Chad was a little brother of sorts, who introduced me to music I hadn't paid any attention to and discovered I loved. He was an old soul, cliché as that sounds, who loved experimental jazz as well as contemporary pop. Chad was a poet. Chad was also desperately insecure about himself and had terribly low self-esteem. His drug use was an attempt to fit in, but he never did it around me. He smoked, heavily (the nicotine probably helped him to relax, although that's just supposition). We would sit for hours, listening to music and just talking. He would tell me about his dreams and aspirations. He would confide in his love life. He wanted approval. He wanted to feel special. He wanted to be loved. Sound familiar?
Chad was an everyman, but he was special. He was loved. He just didn't think he was deserving of it. He wanted to be in Southern California, but couldn't afford it by himself and his parents weren't interested in supporting him (and his smoking/drug/alcohol habits) while at college.
Back in the Chicago suburbs with his parents, he felt isolated and alone. His bi-polar issues resurfaced with a fierce determination that fed on his deep sadness, low self-worth and need for love. In the end, Chad's greatest fear came to pass. He died alone. I suspect he felt as if he deserved it. He couldn't have been more wrong, but I couldn't tell him this. When he was taken back to Illinois, he lost all contact with those of us who cared about him here in Southern California.
In many ways, Chad is still with me and I make every attempt to honor him. Despair and low self-esteem can be debilitating, especially to those who feel they deserve the pain they feel. With no hope, there is little desire to escape that pain. The only escape is the final escape into eternal darkness.
Chad's pain is gone. But for those of us who held him in higher regard than he held himself, for those of us who were touched by this sensitive, funny, yet horribly sad soul, the pain lingers. Three years. My God, I can still see his face, hear his voice, feel his sadness. The music he introduced me to keeps him alive in my heart. Damn, I miss him and hate that he's gone.
Chad's memory remains alive in a couple of creations. A part of him exists with me in the world of Eberron as a plucky Halfling who worships the goddess of fortune. Ironic that, but in this universe, I felt it appropriate. Another part of him exists as an agent in the world of EVE Online who works for a corporation determined to create new technologies for clones and artificial intelligence to machines. Again, there is a certain sense of irony in that, though perhaps a bit more obscure than the first example.
In any event, I am dedicating today to my friend Chad Ostreko, who would have been 28 this year. I want to do something creative…something wonderful. I want him to know I miss him. I think he would have liked that. Chad was a romantic, after all.
EDIT: An online obituary claims he died on 8/3. So, there may be some dispute on exactly what day he passed away (from my perspective). Suffice it to say that, whichever day it was, I mourne his loss.