My son was twenty-four years old, six feet, two inches tall with golden skin and muscles that were rounded and perfectly formed, fitting his body like a glove. He would buy me expensive presents, just like he bought himself expensive clothes. He was a sun-worshipper and a star-child – a poet and a generous, fun-loving soul. He had round, dark eyes that looked at you with an equal dose of amusement, glee, innocence and honesty. In the sun, they turned on elven shades of green. His hands were large – they were good at gardening and holding people tight to him. He thrived on people’s warmth.
My son died of a GHB overdose, forever to remain twenty-four. His beautiful body gone – only his soul remains and I am forever changed. We talked the day before – he had finally landed the job he’d been trying for months to get. I may never know exactly what happened that night, how he overdosed. It is now four and a half months later and I’m still trying to find out. The people he was with did not call 911 in time. They claim that he went to an apartment upstairs from where he was staying on Miami Beach at 9:00 in the morning after coming in from a night of partying. They claim they had to go up to that apartment and drag him downstairs because the guy called them and said he was unconscious and wanted him out of there. This same guy said in the police report that he was making heavy wheezing, snoring sounds. Why didn’t they call 911 then? They put him in a room on a bed on his back and said they kept checking his pulse. As far as I can tell, they did nothing until 2:30 that afternoon when the ambulance came. He was already blue, the life having been sucked out of that incredible, thriving, strong body. How is it possible? I’m fifty-three years old with various ailments and so much more fragile than him and yet he’s gone and I’m still alive, somewhere.
We had Julius’s beautiful, golden body cremated and scattered his ashes in the Gulf Stream. We had three services for him. We had an open casket and all his friends from Miami came along with all the other people who knew him and loved him.
I am presently working on a documentary about my son and the fatal qualities of GHB. I am seeking funding from wherever I can. This documentary means a lot to me because I believe that my son wants me to help other people by educating them concerning the unknown and little-documented effects of GHB.
Lead me, fair angel, away from the sin and into the light.
I want to shine with a humble glow
that does not blind others, but opens their eye (hearts)
and helps them as it does me.
I want to shine like morning mist
reflecting off the rising sun.
I want to flow with the light,
like the music which runs through my blood,
through my blood, I swear feel its every beat,
It cries to me endlessly
I wish I were a poet, then I could express my world to you.
I wish I were a a poet, for then I could see the world through a poet’s eyes.
Wouldn’t it be simpler then?
If the grass wasn’t just green and the sky was the answer.
Julius passed away on September 9, 2002.
He wrote this poem on December 13, 2000.