Letter 13

Received 11/19/14 through the original Dear Jesse My Brother blog by an anonymous person:

“Your writing is heartbreaking and profound. I went to school with Jesse, and though we weren’t friends, when I saw his work on Facebook I reached out to him to see if he would be available to shoot a friend’s wedding and we had a nice exchange. He seemed flattered that I compared his work to that of other well known photographers in the area, and I was surprised at how humble he was, given his obvious talent. It saddens me that we won’t continue to see the world through his lens anymore.

As an outsider, looking at Jesse growing up he seemed to have it all- good looks, intelligence, personality, well-liked, popular, tons of friends. He also clearly came from a good, loving family. So, I think many people are struggling to understand how a guy who seemingly had everything in the world going for him could have his life end in such a tragic and unbelievable way.

As an adult child of a parent who struggled with substance abuse for many of my formative years, I know all too well the cycle of addiction, and I realize that addicts don’t just become that way overnight… usually something triggers their journey into this dark world. I was fortunate that my Father was able to get help and stay clean, BUT through his journey through detox and eventually to sobriety, we learned a lot about his life, upbringing, and the series of events that led him to turn to drugs in the first place- things we were completely clueless about."

December 10, 2014

Dear Jesse,

I remember you telling me about the time both you and dad found her. You were no older then 12 or 13 years old. She had almost drank herself to death in our house across from the highschool.

She wanted to die.

Mom.

I never knew about this day until later on in our life. As I sit and reflect now, I can’t help but feel such sadness for you seeing mom in that state as a young kid. I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been. Her alcoholism didn’t stop there. It would torment her until she passed at 60 years old.

She was one of the most electric women I have known and will ever know. I can remember watching her as a young child. She knew how to walk into a room and command it. She unknowingly taught all of us, you, Aimee, and myself, how to walk into a room and light it up. This I am forever grateful for.

God, I fucking miss seeing the both of you walk into a room.

Yesterday, marked the 4 year anniversary of her death. I made sure to go above and beyond my normal routine and do something special with my son. We made butter cookies from scratch and had a cookie party with two of his little friends. Whether I felt like it or not, I had to do for my son that day what I so intensely missed growing up.

After she divorced Dad, she became a workaholic born out of financial neccessity. She was raising 3 kids all on her own in so many ways.

I was in second grade.

This is when my anxiety and stomach problems started. I missed her so much and needed her but she was gone. You became the man of the house way before that. As her and dads problems grew increasingly worse before the divorce, she didn’t keep it to herself. The finances. The infidelity. All the other problems. You involuntarily became her peer during this time. Mom was so lost herself. Her drinking was becoming increasingly worse.

This was around the time you started having sleep walking issues. Mom and dad would find you in the living room in the middle of the night trying to rearrange furniture. You would be in tears, asleep, trying to arrange it. They would have such a hard time calming you down.

You were about 9 or 10.

That burden was too heavy for such a young child to carry. It didn’t stop there either. You were never really ever able to be a kid. The information you were privy to growing up was just awful.

You had spoken to me about this so many times.

Even in the last years of your life that pain was very much still with you.