I have a lot of friends with the type of stupid, unhealthy habits young people develop because they think it doesn’t really matter yet. A lot of people say they’d rather live hard and die young than “grow old” and I have to tell you, that’s a fucking joke. You won’t just hit 40 and be ready to hang up your chaps and die.
My stepmom died over six years ago of an accidental prescription drug overdose when she was only 30 (my first stepmom. I have a different one now, and she’s doing just fine. And she’s great. And yeah my dad’s into younger women, no need to do the math). I was a freshman in college when she died, and she had been in my life since I was 7 - married to my dad for most, but not all, of that time.
It amazes me how often I cry about it. Every few days something will hit me and I can’t believe how much it still hurts. Last week I found myself in the locker room at the gym, doubled over against the lockers because I walked in and smelled her perfume. I hate that she never got the chance to really turn her life around, to stop drinking and using her prescriptions irresponsibly and to figure out how to be happy. I really thought she would. I so believed in her and I just knew that someday she’d work past her issues and everyone would see how wonderful she really was. Sometimes I find myself in disbelief that she’s dead because her story is so horribly unfinished. There’s no redemption, no victory, no conclusion. Just an abrupt and unglamorous end.
There’s so much I couldn’t talk to her about when she was alive because I was too young and I know if she were still around now, she’d understand me in some ways that my parents never can. She’d be so proud of me for living in LA and pursuing my dreams.
It’s unbelievable to me how much her loss still hurts me and I hate to see other people I love being so careless with their lives. This is not just your life and you don’t have forever to turn it around.