In 2005 when my dear friend Patrick was killed in a drunk driving accident, I was just 19. It was really the first unexpected death that I had ever been in any close proximity to. Yes, my Opie had died 3 years prior, but A) he was elderly, and B) I never processed it, and I likely still really haven’t.
I really had no idea what to do with the grief that I was feeling when pat died, other than drink and do drugs, which didn't help. I devised this idea that I would write Patrick a letter, put it in an envelope and put it in his casket. The letter was in a very casual and friendly vernacular, like I was just talking to pat, and it referenced a lot of things we were into, like weed, Heineken and Southern Comfort. It was as if the only person I wanted to talk to to about how I was feeling was suddenly gone, and so I had no choice but to write a letter. I don’t remember exactly what the letter said, but I do know it was not meant to be what it became.
I do remember that the letter contained a stanza from the Grateful Dead’s rendition of an old bible song. It was around this time that I had my first iPod, and had ripped “Ladies And Gentleman The Grateful Dead” to it, which has the song as an encore from the 1970 show at the Fillmore east. That 4 disc set was one of my first exposures to live Dead, and I still listen to it all the time.
“lay down my dear brother
lay down and take your rest
won’t you lay your head upon your savior’s breast
i love you, but Jesus loves you the best
and I bid you goodnight”
Someone in Pat’s family found the letter, opened it and read it. The next thing I know, when I'm showing up at this church for a funeral, I'm being asked to read it in front of the entire crowd. I knew I was not up for that, being in all kinds of sorrow that I had no defense against I knew I couldn't get up there and do that. My friend Maggie did it, and to this day I regret that I couldn't summon up the balls to do it myself. I was caught off guard because no one alive was supposed to read what I had written to the only person I couldn't just call and talk to, the only person I wanted to call and talk to. It turned out that Pat’s family took some kind of comfort in what i had written, which is one of those amazing things that I couldn't have intended when I was writing it. As private as the letter was intended to be, I’m really glad that someone was able to get something out of it.
There were some critics (like my science teacher Mr. Dorr) who found all the references to partying disrespectful. That’s fine because my intention was never to have anyone read it, therefore I can’t say that I set out to disrespect anyone’s memory.
Fuck Mr. Dorr anyway, what an asshole.
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