Dust in the Wind...

Sometimes it's really hard to come to terms with someone you truly cared for leaving for the great beyond. It's like a knife through the heart at times, and a dull throb at others. Sometimes a person doesn't want to believe it, that when they round the corner the person will be there to give them a hug. But that's never the case and never will be.

I remember the last time I hung out with my friend. We spent the night together, sleeping outside a hair salon on Davie Street in downtown Vancouver. We were drunk off of our asses and yelling at the people walking by. We shared cigarettes and attempted to understand each others drunken languages. Max, was french Canadian... I just don't make sense when I drink. After many hours of laughing and accosting pedestrians we called it a night, the streets were unusually quiet... So we fell asleep. When we awoke he went to a temp job and I went to panhandle with a close friend that also happened to be his ex.

The next night I went to stay with the boy I had fallen in love with some weeks before, and I didn't return for a month... Although it didn't seem that long. The day I returned I ran into Lui a good friend of mine and fellow street kid/Art Gallery Hooligan. The first words that were uttered out of his mouth were: "Max is dead!" I stared at him for a moment, wondering who he meant as I knew several Max's. "Mad Max, he died last night." And at that moment I felt like I had been hit in the chest with a bowling ball.

A fact I had known for a long time was that Max was a Heroin user. I suppose the circumstances were that he bought his drugs off of someone that was killing off their clients. So what he bought was in fact Hog De-wormer instead of actual Heroin.

That night... My dear friend passed away in his sleep, a week after his 25th birthday. It was 7 months ago... I miss him every day, but now he is only dust in the wind.