I can remember the day like it was yesterday, even though it was almost 12 years ago. The sights, feelings, smells, and events of that day are seared into my mind for eternity. It was September 11, 2008—I’m not sure if it’s irony or synchronicity that the date is shared with one of the worst days in American history—but I will always feel a combined sorrow on that day for the thousands of lives lost in the terrorist attacks and also for the life of my best friend, Holly Rena Fleming, who took her last breath in my arms on my bathroom floor.
On September 11, 2008, I was 20 years old and deeply enmeshed in my relationship with heroin. At this time I was living in a small and very old single-wide trailer on a desolate country road. On that fall September evening, there were three other people at my house before Holly came over after work like she always did. Outside it was a nice warm evening and the sounds of crickets and birds chirping filled the air, while inside the air was filled with cigarette smoke and the only sound came from a compact disk playing a mix of early 2000’s hip-hop. Scattered on the kitchen counter were the empty bags and syringes responsible for the three incoherent people on my couch. As usual, Holly was in my bathroom and asked for my help injecting the dark brown liquid that has taken over both of our lives into her arm. She was my best friend, so of course I comply. I could never have imagined what would happen next. I left the bathroom to join my other friends in their comatose state, but just a couple minutes later I was jolted on my feet again to the sound of a loud thud coming from my bathroom. I ran down my narrow hallway to discover a sight that will never leave my brain.
This is the moment my heart went still. Time stopped. Everything seemed like a blur. I couldn’t believe what was happening and I felt so powerless.
My three friends came running back to the sound of my screams. I had them get my phone and I quickly dialed 911. Shortly after, those three friends said they had to go and that was the last time I ever saw them. I often wonder if the memory of that evening haunts them as it does me. But it wouldn’t have mattered if they stayed or not. None of us were educated on what to do during a heroin overdose. We only knew the things we heard: slap them in the face, put them in the shower, drop ice down their pants, etc. I tried many of those things while waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I sat with her in my arms and cried. I felt so helpless and hopeless. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. We had been through so much together. I then saw headlights coming up my driveway and raced outside to meet them. Two police officers arrived first. They followed me inside, walked back to the bathroom with me, and looked at Holly. Then they turned around and walked back outside, and into their radios they said it was safe for the paramedics to come. I wasn’t allowed back inside while the paramedics tried to save Holly’s life. I was only able to watch as they wheeled her out on a stretcher with a sheet over her body. I knew I had lost my best friend... the rest of that night was a blur. I do not remember much after that.
I never got to say goodbye to Holly. The family didn’t allow me to attend the funeral, so the last memory I have of her was on my bathroom floor. My heart never healed. I used that memory to fuel my substance use for a very long time. I was filled with guilt and shame, I blamed myself for what happened on that September night. I did go visit her gravesite years later, but that was the only time I’ve been there. I started to work through a lot of the feelings associated with that night when I entered recovery this time. I had to grieve again for her. I needed to begin the process of forgiving myself. I have grown a lot through that process. I live my life now knowing that she is with me and watching over me; I want to make her proud. I now hold onto all the memories I had with her throughout the years of our friendship. Now, I get to laugh at the fun times we had together. I will always remember Holly Rena Fleming for the laughter we shared, the road trips we went on, the bonfires we had, and the true friendship we built together. My heart is no longer still: it now beats with lots of love for Holly and for myself.
I love and miss you, Holly Bear. May you rest in peace.
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