Carey Boyd Herringe Memorial
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Rememberence


Rememberence

I remember a time when Carey came up to my home after we just moved down to NSW. It was night time and he was on one of his crusades to save me. It was the first time I met Neil Walker. Poor Neil honestly didn't get much say that night as Carey took the floor with his determination on saving me from burning. It is funny looking back how something of a fun night of brothers seeding themself against each other with the word and their different interpretations of it seemed so insignificant back then yet now becomes a cheerished moment. How many times Carey and I would volley against each other to get our own interpretation of Christs teaching across to the other. Each occasion now holds a special place in my heart as I know that no one could fill his shoes as far as religious debate, discussion and dedication goes.

Neil Walker and I yesterday went to one of the places Carey and I used to meet up when I would go to Sydney. Ikea at Rhodes. Of course we didn't go just to walk around, we always had to have a serious meal with a very in depth conversation. The last conversation was a personal one to Carey. Like most of Carey's friends, Carey would open his heart but at the same time be very specific with questions hoping to find the answer one to his liking. To this day I never understood why he would ask me of all people questions when unlike friends, I would simply tell him the truth regardless of whether it hurt. Then again perhaps that's why he shared so many intimate things with me. Perhaps he wanted to know that his brother would try to guide him and get him to regroup his thoughts. Perhaps he needed my honestly to be like a second conscience to his own. What is interesting is that Carey knew all the answers but despite his many strengths he was too emotionally fragile to act on them. We as humans throughout the world show our weaknesses in so many things and perhaps none moreso than self appraisal, self criticism and self correction.

It is because of this I can not find Carey responsible for his actions when he took his own life. It is because of this I can't find Carey to blame in any way for simply not being able to cope when faced with the mountain of pain in his life. One can't judge Carey's friends as they only advised Carey based on their knowledge of Carey's problems. Many of them legitimately thought Carey's drugs were essential. Many of them believed that Carey needed his drugs because Carey had reinforced this to them on so many occasions, so much so that many of his friends even spent hours taking Carey from one doctor to the next to get the scripts he required. But his family knew different. His wife knew for years and from her sense of loyalty to her husband told no one the truth. His father Colin Herringe having spoken with Carey's specialists knew that Carey was a drug addict not requiring any narcotic drugs for years. His father did nothing about it and it was not until late last year that Carey's mother and I found out about it because Carey had to be revived in his fathers unit after an overdose. We later find out from medical records this was just one of 8 narcotic overdoses over the years of Careys life. All the while Carey's father and wife knew these things and told no one. I can understand in some ways Carey's wife's sense of loyalty. Perhaps she confided in Carey's father as they were very close. But his father regardless of being estranged from Carey's mother should have called in reinforcements. I could go on but couldn't be bothered. The point is mute. Regardless of what angle I turn, Carey's father helped push the needles into Carey's arm by his failures as a father and a friend. All I am left with now is rememberence. All I am left now with is tears I share with my brother when we are alone at his plot.

Carey's headstone at Rookwood

I attended your plot yesterday Carey but you know this. I tended to the flowers and was pleased that one of the family had left real flowers there rather than the cheap plastic shit that I removed the last time I visited. I left for you some beautiful flowers and together witht he ones there your plot shines for your rememberence. I purchased a really expensive wreath to place at the base of your headstone. And each time I visit you I shall tend to your plot and make certain that it is as beautiful as I can make it. I miss you daily and think of you so very much. For other family members that makes me morbid. So I only have  one thing to left to say to those family members who dare to judge me because I think of you all the time. To those family members who called and labelled me as Morbid because I came as saw you at the Coroners. Because I brushed your hair and cradled you in my arms. I said to Mum and Jennifer that you looked so peaceful, so handsome, and it goes without saying I do not think you ever realised how truly beautiful you were nor how much you were loved by so many. And then I was even more morbid because I then went with my son to the funeral home to see you one last time before your service. He and I wept together. We both loved and still love you without shame. Mr B was so hurt by your passing. He said a prayer for you at the funeral home. You would have been proud of him as he stood reflecting the times you shared together. His love of Christ and his foundations of faith came in many ways from your visits and talks with him. So the one last thing I want to say to those in our family who have labelled me as morbid, and I shall say it in true CAREY STYLE, one of your most priceless line, "Go fuck yourself motherfuckers!"

 

 


 


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