A couple of days ago when Ron was cleaning/sorting our 'junk drawer'
in one of our dressers, he came across a letter addressed to me
in a journal book I kept a few years back.
I had forgotten all about this letter. My brother, Bernard, had written it
two months before he took his own life in Toronto in 1971.
I had not remembered what he had said to me in his letter...
until I re-read it.
It was typical Bernard at the time.....funny, somewhat carefree,
typical 19 year old of that time
and yet someone, as I read 'between the lines', who was screaming for help.
It was very upsetting to read as I recalled getting this letter at home from him.
He was a lonely boy I realized, one that had always been searching for 'the answer'.
He got involved in all the available drugs at the time. He became dependent
on the 'high' for a couple of years before his death.
He was not happy living in the real world.
He was a restless individual from as far as I can remember.
It is still very upsetting to me when I think of the potential he had
but was unable to achieve in his short life.
Things......drugs, along with an unidentified mental illness.....
got in his way.
I know that he would have loved this view at the Gaspereaux Canal the other day.
I would have loved to have been sitting along its edge with him.