Happy 2006! Okay, now that's out of the way.....

In this picture is my friend Heather,with her then boyfriend Isaiah. Heather was born in 1979 and we were very close. She dated my nephew Ricky for a while, when they were kids, before I even met her, and she also dated my friend Chris. She was a lot of things to a lot of people.

She was a very good friend, loyal to the death. Literally. She would do anything for her friends. She never, ever talked about you behind your back and instead would come straight to your face with it. She didn't have an easy life as a young child, and as a result, had a very addictive personality which led to problems with alcohol and cocaine, and later, heroin. But mostly alcohol.

In 2000, she made a desperate phone call to me at 7 in the morning, crying and stating that no one would help her. She admitted she had a problem with cocaine and just wanted to die. Her father, her hero, heard this going on and promptly took her to a clinic where she was admitted to rehab. Off and on she was in rehab for the cocaine, until finally, in early 2001, she stayed away from it. Her and Isaiah rented a house right by mine and we were together every day. For a while, everything was fine. She went to school and made the dean's list. Everyone was taking that collective sigh of relief.

Then, in mid 2002, she began drinking heavily, heavier than ever before. Because I come from an alcoholic household, I have very little tolerance for drunks and as a result, we drifted apart a little bit. But not before our fair share of fights and arguments about the drinking, most of which she would justify by telling me that I don't "know what's it like to be an addict." Isaiah talked her into finally checking herself into rehab for alcohol, which she did. She was miserable about it but knew it had to be done. So she went. For three weeks, I was free of the drunken drama and the anger and the incoherent conversations. I feel guilty saying this now, but it was a very peaceful time for me. Isaiah, too. He didn't have someone screaming at him every five minutes. Coming from a Christian home with no addiction issues, the poor guy was totally fucking lost in how to deal with her.

When Heather came home, she called me. She sounded a little bitter and told me that she was still struggling. She said she would prefer not to hear any stories about things she did while drunk. This made sense to me and I agreed to not discuss it. Then she said she was going to need her own space for a while. This I also readily agreed to, because, frankly, I was enjoying mine.

What I didn't know, and what was kept from me until it was too late, was that she had made a "friend" in rehab named Liz, who was a recovering heroin addict. After Heather left rehab, Liz left too, and moved in with her and Isaiah. I still find it odd that I knew none of this. I had no idea Liz was living there. Looking back on it, I have to wonder at how much time I spent with her after she got out of rehab. Not much. I mean, she was three blocks away and I had no idea she was living there. Of course, I was going through my own issues with the PWF and stuff, so it makes sense that I wasn't too worried about her. I just figured "Heather will be Heather" and that was it.

In June of 2002, I received a frantic phone call from Isaiah while I was in Kentucky visiting the PWF for a wedding. He said that Heather had "almost died" and was in the hospital. I asked him for what? He took a deep breath and then said, "Heroin." Shocked, I asked him to repeat himself. He said it again. I said, "Where the hell did she ever get her hands on any heroin?" He replied, "Liz." He told me about how they would score heroin from this guy that Liz knew and go in the bathroom and shoot it up. I guess Heather thought Isaiah didn't know, but he did. On this particular night, she was at Liz's boyfriend's house and Heather, being afraid of needles, asked Liz to shoot her up. Liz did, and gave her too much. Isaiah came to pick her up and found her lying on Liz's bed, almost entirely blue, and began screaming, "How long has she been like this? What is wrong with her?" Liz just shrugged and said, "I dunno." Isaiah frantically called the police on his cellphone and when the ambulance got there, they kept asking Liz what she had taken because she was completely unresponsive. Liz just kept denying everything, saying she had just decided to lay down for a nap. Finally Isaiah yelled, "I think it might be heroin!" and they immediately injected adrenaline into her bloodstream. Within moments, Heather came around, but was taken to the hospital anyway. Isaiah told me all of this, but asked me not to tell her that I knew. When I did talk to Heather again, she said that she and Liz had been out to a bar and that someone put "some shit" into her drink to cause her to react that way and that the doctors didn't know what it was. I nodded like I believed her and then, because I was scared for her, told her to put Liz on a shelf and fucking leave her there. Heather looked confused for a moment and then said, "But she's my friend." After this incident, according to Isaiah, Heather continued to shoot up with Liz, with Liz always preparing the needles, and also continued to drink so badly that there were incidents with her peeing in her pants in the middle of the night. She also fell through a glass coffee table, shattering it with her face, and refused to go to the hospital for stitches. She didn't even remember doing any of this, and the next morning, she woke Isaiah up and asked him if he had "beat her ass last night." Isaiah then had to tell her what happened. He was amazed she would even ask the question, since he had never laid a hand on her.

I decided to move to Pensacola, Florida, in July of 2002, and began preparing for the move immediately. Heather was on probation at the time and was slated to be done with that in December. She pouted, begged, pleaded, and cried but I only assured her that I would let her live with me in Florida once she was off of probation. I promised her I was not "deserting" her, just moving on to a better life. I knew that Liz wasn't around a lot and felt a certain relief at that, but Heather's drinking, by this time, was completely out of control. I would go over to her house and she could cry and beg me not to leave her. I felt so bad that I usually ended up staying. I contemplated calling her father but figured he must know how bad it had gotten, so I didn't. On August 7th, I flew to Pensacola for a week to secure a house to rent. The plan was to find the house, pay the deposit, fly back to Michigan, and drive back to Florida. As soon as I got off the plane in Pensacola, my phone rang and it was Heather. "Guess what?" she said excitedly, sounding sober for the first time in days. "My sister is going to have a baby. Now I HAVE to get my shit together, since someone is going to be looking up to me." We chatted for a moment and then I told her I would call her when I got back to Chris's house. I had a lot of work ahead of me. Chris picked me up and took me to the car rental place, and then followed me to his house where he showed me how to use his computer and everything. After he left, I did some work on the internet and my phone rang again. It was Heather and I answered it. She still sounded sober. We talked for a little over an hour. She told me about Liz and the truth about the night she went to the hospital. Then she sighed and said that Liz wanted to come and see her that day. I said, "Heather, no. She is not a good friend. Friends don't do that to friends. You need to find some people that are not into substance abuse." She laughed and said she understood why I felt the way I did, but that she did want to see Liz that day because she was going to tell her how she felt about her. I guess in her fucked up mind, she thought she was "in love" with this girl, although Heather was no lesbian. One thing she said that will always stand out in my mind was, "I do want Liz to come over here. It's just that I know if she does, I'll shoot up again, and if I do, I just KNOW I'm going to overdose. I don't want to do that. I don't want to put my family through that again." I yelled, "Then don't! Jesus, Heather, just stay away from that fucking bitch." We talked for a few more minutes, told each other "I love you" as we always did, and hung up. I proceeded with my day.

About two hours later I got a phone call from Heather again but I muted it because I was busy. I figured I'd just call her back later. When Chris got home from work, we got into a huge argument because I said that, based on the conversation we had had that day, that I was going to call her probation officer and tell on her. That way, she could go to jail and dry up. It would be the best thing for her. Chris was against the idea, telling me I should try talking to her first. We called her on her cell phone but she didn't answer, so Chris left a joking message like, "Hey, you lush. Call your friends, although you're probably passed out right now. We need to talk to you and it's important." We went to bed.

The next morning I got a phone call from Isaiah. When I answered it, he immediately said, "Heather's dead." It took a moment for it to sink in, and then I think I said, "What?" He repeated himself: "Heather's dead." He sounded like he was in the grip of a very controlled panic. I started screaming. What I was screaming, I don't remember, but I remember Heather's mom, Pam, getting on the phone and reassuring me that Heather did not kill herself. I won't go into too much detail, but this is what happened. I found this out in bits and pieces as everyone else found out.

Liz did, in fact, come over that day. But not before Heather called everyone in her address book on her phone. I mean, everyone. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. It's like she knew. Isaiah, like me, was aware that Liz was coming over and didn't like it at all. But I guess he figured he was powerless since he was at work at the time. That phone call I got from her, the one I didn't answer, would be her last. Liz showed up and at some point the two of them decided to shoot up. Liz did the setting up and the actual penetration of the needle, as she always did. But, once again, she gave Heather too much and she began drifting off. No one knows what happened in those last moments, but I think Liz tried to rouse Heather and couldn't, because then she just left. She left, took Heather's cellphone, her cigarettes, and locked the door behind her. Heather NEVER locked the door. This happened around 7PM.

Isaiah decided he wasn't going to go home that night and spent the night at his mother's. He, too, tried to call Heather but didn't get an answer. Figuring that she was passed out, and pissed off because he didn't want to be in his own home anyway, he went to bed.

The next morning at 9AM, he went home. The first thing he noticed was the locked door. Thankfully, he had a key. He opened the door, went inside, and the first thing he saw was Heather sitting on the couch. She was sitting up but had her legs stretched out on the side of her. She had her head in her hands, and she appeared to be asleep. The second thing that alarmed Isaiah was the burnt out cigarette in her hand. It appeared to have been lit and just put in her hand, as if she forgot to smoke it. It was burned all the way down to the filter. He gently tried to take her pulse, but when he touched her, she was very cold and very stiff. Panicked, he hit the redial button on his phone instead of 911 and got Heather's sister, Robin. He told Robin, "I think Heather's dead." Robin began screaming, "Are you sure? Oh my God, Isaiah, stay where you are. We'll be right there. I'll call 911." Isaiah said okay and then sat down in the chair directly across from the couch, talking to her. "Man, Heather, you really did it this time. Look what you did. Everyone's going to be so upset. I don't know what to do." He sat there until the paramedics came and harshly ushered him out. At that point, Robin and Pam showed up and utter chaos ensued as they tried to figure out what happened. They brought her body out on the stretcher and Isaiah said, "Oddly, I remember being horrified that the bottoms of her feet were blue. Just blue. That's all I could see." It was then that I got the phone call.

I flew back to Michigan early to attend the funeral and it was really terrible. Everyone was just sobbing their hearts out, including me. I have never cried so hard in my life. Heather was cremated, but for her funeral, she was laid out in her casket. It took me a while to approach the casket, but I did. Afterwards, we went to her father's house where everyone went over the events again and again.

So, Liz, I know you're out there. I know you had a hand in killing my friend. I know it was her decision to get high, but you could have at least dumped her off at an emergency room, which was less than a mile away. You could have called someone. You could have made an anonymous 911 call from a payphone. Instead, you took her phone and cigarettes and locked the door to delay the time that it would take for someone to get in. We all know it was you. You nasty fucking bitch. For many, many months I wanted to take your life. For a long time, I wished you dead. Now, I see that you are just a waste of human space and karma is a bitch. You will get yours. I don't know how you could leave someone to die all alone, but I hope Heather passed out long before she realized you deserted her. I am not a mean or angry person, but I promise you this...if I ever see you on the streets, I am going to kick the shit out of you. You're not wanted, because as the police told me, "being high and stupid is not a crime." But I want you to feel the pain that we all felt to some degree, and I promise you, I will kick your fucking ass. I don't think about you nearly as much as I used to because time is healing the wounds, but I hope that the rest of your life is miserable and meaningless. I hope Heather haunts the shit out of you. I hope you never sleep well again. I hope you waste your own life away before you're 30. That will be retribution enough for me, you nasty fucking bitch. Just pray to God you NEVER see my face again. We met once, so I know who you are.

Which brings me to the point of my story. Last night, being New Year's Eve, I was kind of mopey and depressed. It was just me, Shawn, and my nephew Ricky here. Ricky and Heather also had a rich and extensive past, and right before midnight, we got to talking about her. I was flipping through my music channels on my digital cable and on the 90's station, the Cranberries were playing. Heather loved the Cranberries so I told Ricky we were going to leave it on as a tribute to Heather. During that time, the clock struck midnight and I fielded phone calls from friends and kissed my husband. We chatted some more about Heather. The song ended and I picked up the remote to change it to the 80's station, my favorite. Just as I was about to change the channel, "I'll Be Missing You" by Puff Daddy came on. Me and Ricky glanced at each other and were like, "Damn." We kinda smiled and laughed about it. Both of us got teary eyed. The song ended and I prepared to change the channel again. Suddenly, "I'll Be There" by Escape Club came on. Wow. I know all the lyrics, but Ricky and Shawn didn't, so I made them listen. The refrain goes, "Don't be afraid of my love....I'll be watching you from above....and I'd give all the world tonight....to be with you....cuz I'm on your side....and I still care....I may have died but I've gone nowhere....just think of me....and I'll be there." By this point, I was a blubbering mess of snot and tears and Ricky was jumping around yelling, "Okay, Heather, we know you're here! We love you girl! We know you're here!" That song ended and then "Crossroads" by Bone began. I sat on the couch, bawling, while Ricky started yelling, "Oh my GOD! Oh my GOD!" I cannot describe it other than to say that the air was so thick inside this house that it was difficult to breathe. Anyone who believes in spirits would know what I was talking about. So that song ended and Ricky and I gasped for air. But not for long, because the next song they played was, "Keep Ya Head Up," by Tupac and I jumped up off the couch and ran to the TV and Ricky and I just stared at each other in amazement. We were speechless. See, Heather had that tape when it first came out and she loved that song so much that she played it over and over again to the point that it got annoying. Ricky, in a fit of rage, was in her car one day and decided to break the tape because he was so sick of it. They got into a huge fight over that broken tape and it stayed with them until her dying day, some nine years later. That's when I knew that none of that could be a coincidence, and nothing could convince me otherwise. She was playing music to us. She was telling us, basically, that she was all right and that she was still around to fuck with us from time to time. Weird things use to happen to me in Pensacola but it's been a long while. A year, at least. But she loved both me and Ricky more than anything else in this world and this was her way of letting us know, while we were together, that she's still here. What a feeling that was. I'm still reeling from it.

So, now, I'm very sick (again) and I'm off to bed to cuddle with my warm hubby. I just wanted to share my experience. Most people I know believe in that stuff so I hope they find it interesting. There is just NO WAY that any of that was a coincidence, and for that I have to say: Heather, we love you and miss you. We know you're in a better place. And we think of you all the time. It'll be four years in August, but it's still fresh in our minds. Thanks for hanging out with us last night. We love you.