BROTHER JIM

I am writing today about my younger brother James Arthur Nesbitt. He died eleven years ago today of a heroin overdose. At the time of his death there were several deaths attributed to what they called dirty heroin on the streets of Portland. We feel this what happened that it was not intentional it was a accident due to the lifestyle he led and the choices he made.
He actually was very happy that day if the accounts we heard were true. He had been approved for a government loan and was buying a small home near where our Mother lived. He had went to Portland with the couple he was rooming with to pick up his government check and his med's. He never returned. 

Life is what we make it right? Sometimes it throws us a wallop like it did for Jim. After high school graduation he was very happy that he had landed a job with a local company running heavy equipment and most importantly working outdoors in the woods. His love. He had been on his job for a while doing a good job and had the respect of those he worked for. Then the papers came. Vietnam. Before we knew it he was gone. My parents visited him at Ft. Lewis in Washington state and off he went to Nam. We of course got the letters stating what an impossible war it was. How they were in area's that they were not to be in, like Cambodia. How he was being covered with and inhaling agent orange. How he and his unit were given drugs to help them deal with the demands, stress and fear of being on watch. He asked the folks to send him a small knife to put under his pillow at night. They did as requested whether he received it I do not recall. He was afraid from the moment he woke up until he went to sleep. My heart breaks for all those young men who lost their lives, lost their minds, lost their limbs and lost eventually who they ever where.
When he finally made his journey home and stepped off the bus in the small town we all lived my heart broke. So thin, wasted away, sad eyes with no life left in them, a low flat voice. Where was my brother I wanted to know.
Jim slowly healed with the love of his family and caring friends. But he was not the same boy. He dabbled in lightweight drugs like pot and he drank. He seemed happiest when he was high on something. 
His life took him on a different path. A difficult path throughout the years, with many jobs, addiction, lost loves and ultimately the departure of his wife along with his two young children.
A family gets worn down in these situations and gets tired of the problems, gets tired of trying to help over and over again. My parents were in for the long haul and continued to give support and love in ways that they could. But in the end nothing helped. He left us regardless. I am relieved that my parents died before Jim as it would have been so unbelievably hard for them to bear.

So that is a sad story about my brother. I prefer to remember the best parts of his life. Our lives together living on the farm when he was young(a little pest) and then moving to Central Oregon. All the outdoor recreational things he enjoyed doing. The many camping trips and family outings we all enjoyed together. 
Jim and I had three things very much in common. We both had a love for reading,writing and music. Jim did not play an instrument but he so loved music and we would listen together to various kinds of music. We would discuss books that we each had read, and share our writings with one another. 

Your kids miss you Jim, your siblings miss you. You never had the chance to meet your little grandson. We so wish it would not have ended that way.
I had a dream about you last night actually. It was like most of the dreams I have about you. You were young in your teens, you were happy, you dark eyes  sparkling and laughing and those artistic looking hands with the long fingers were flying around in conversation. I was so happy to be in your presence. You grabbed me up and twirled me around and my heart sang and just at that moment I woke. You have been on my mind all day.

James Arthur Nesbitt 
Born October 12, 1949 Portland OR.
Died October 1, 2001  Portland OR.
Bless you always brother.