It hasn't been more than a few hours since you passed, man, and I'm feeling weird about giving you a RIP on my site. What the fuck, dude? What the fuck was wrong with you? Was it on purpose? Did you mean to wake up dead this morning?
The last time we talked, a little over a year ago, you told me how you wondered why God had let you live after the drugs and the AIDS. Was it to give a loan to your girlfriend?
Was it for something else?
I tried to suggest that you look to yourself for ideas, not God. See, I don't believe God exists. So, why look for answers in "Him" when answers can (hopefully) be found inside of You?
I guess I should have tried harder to convince you--but dinner was ready and we had to go in. Mom thought you were drunk, but you seemed pretty together when we were talking. I think even you knew you weren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I always felt like you had so much more you could be doing. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to...what the hell did you want to do with yourself? You just always seemed fine with your Neil and working in auto parts.
But I always felt like you could do more. Maybe if I had stayed on the east coast I could have told you that. Maybe if I had called I could have told you that. Maybe if God actually existed he could have told you that.
But he doesn't and now you're dead. That potential I always thought you had is now frozen in time--always attainable, never to be attained. That's the thing, Jay, there is no heaven, but there is an afterlife. You live on with us--here, in our memories. You'll always be that generally friendly guy that I never had trouble getting along with despite the two of us being absolutely nothing a like.
I hope you don't mind if I take your life as an example of how life can leave you behind. You weren't a success story, Jay. Life gave you lemons and while you survived them, lemonade was not made. The same way that you could have potentially been one of the rest of us who did something with our life, we can always end up in your shoes.
Success and even survival are choices each one of us makes every single day. You chose your destiny whether you realized it or not, Jay. In the same way so does everyone on this planet.
Every time someone I care about dies (I'm doing this right now), I take a moment and think about my Atheism. I hope I'm wrong. I hope there is a heaven and that there's a big fucking juke box there with nothing but Neil Young songs playing on it. Hell, I hope God is Neil Young.
That would be so cool.
I love you, man. Whether it was on purpose or not, I feel like you're at peace now. No more strife, no more alcohol, no more treating yourself like shit. I know we all could have done more to help you and I'm sorry we didn't. But we all make our choices and you made yours.
You'll be remembered, at least by your family. Your brother, sister-in-law, and your two nephews, and maybe a few other people, will remember you as the generally good guy you were.
You'll be missed my friend.
My Uncle Jay (to the right of his brother) after surviving drugs, AIDS, and divorce. It seems like it was the alcohol that did him in.
Mom says there won't be a funeral. We're just going to scatter his ashes over a lake in a park in New Rochelle, NY. That sounds exactly like what Jay would have wanted.
Orignal From: RIP: My Uncle Jay
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