Echoes of Unfinished Dreams

Lyrics

Obituary — If Damien Never Made It to Recovery (Spoken by Dee at the funeral) Hey… my name is Dee. And I guess we’re all here under circumstances none of us wanted. I’m not gonna stand up here and say the usual things people say at funerals. I’m not gonna pretend everything was perfect. Damien wouldn’t want that. He was the kind of guy who told the truth, even when it made people uncomfortable… so I’m gonna tell the truth too. Damien was my boy. He was the kind of friend who would help anybody, anytime, no questions asked. He loved his wife. He loved his kids. He talked about them all the time. He talked about changing healthcare, helping people in recovery, opening sober living homes, giving people a second chance, fixing a system he thought treated people like numbers instead of human beings. He had big dreams. Real dreams. Not fake ones. And the sad part is… he probably could’ve done all of it. But Damien was hurting in ways a lot of us didn’t understand. There were so many times he asked me, “Man, should I go to rehab? Should I get help? What should I do?” And I told him the same thing every time — Go. Just go. It can’t get worse than this. And every time he said he would… something happened. Some drama. Some excuse. Some reason why it wasn’t the right time. And then the drinking got worse. The pills got worse. The lying got worse. Not lying because he was a bad guy… lying because he was ashamed. The truth is, I didn’t even know how bad it really was until it was too late. The Damien I met years ago… he changed. He was still there, but he wasn’t there at the same time. And I’m mad. I’m mad because he didn’t let me help him. I’m mad because he took himself away from me. He took himself away from his kids. He took himself away from his wife — the woman he said was the most important person in his life. You always said you loved them, man. You always said family was everything. So why didn’t you fight harder to stay here? I don’t understand it. I really don’t. And I want everybody here to hear this — because this isn’t just about Damien. If he was as kind as everyone says… then he should have been kind enough to himself to get help. If he was as strong as everyone says… then he should have been strong enough to walk into treatment. If he was the father he wanted to be… he’d still be here. If he was the husband he wanted to be… he’d still be here. If he was the friend we needed… he’d still be here. But he’s not. And that’s what addiction looks like. It takes a man who wanted to change the world… and makes him unable to save himself. Damien wanted to open sober living homes. He wanted to help people getting out of prison. He wanted to build something that made healthcare better. He wanted to show his kids what it meant to live right. He wanted real experiences, real family, real peace. He talked about forgiveness. He talked about putting family first. He talked about how life should be about moments, not money. He believed all of that. But he couldn’t let go of the substances long enough to live it. And that’s the tragedy. Because the legacy he wanted to leave… isn’t the one he left. Instead of being remembered for what he built, he’s being remembered for what he never finished. Instead of being here with his wife, we’re standing here talking about him. Instead of watching his kids grow, we’re telling stories about him. Instead of opening those homes to help people, he became the example of what happens when you don’t help yourself. And I hate that. I hate that this is how your story ended. But if there’s anything Damien would want from this… it’s that somebody in this room learns from it. Take care of yourself. Get help when you need it. Stop thinking you can do it alone. Stop waiting for the perfect time. Because this — right here — is what happens when you don’t. Man… I’m mad at you. I’m hurt. And I wish you were still here. But I know you wanted more than this. And I hope the rest of us are brave enough to do what you couldn’t. Rest easy, brother.