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"Thanks Man" that's what he said, dying of an overdose in some obscene flop house. Someone put a blanket on him.
He was 35 years old, the youngest boy in a blended family of step-siblings and adoptees, me the only girl and also the youngest.
The safe house opened the year after he died, would it have saved his life? I don't know, Mike was always on the downward path, wasn't always the smartest about the basic choices in life, always making the wrong call. It doesn't matter, he's gone and I miss him.
As long as the walking wounded try to self-medicate, as long as the thrill seekers get themselves stuck with the needle, until we come up with something better, I applaud Vancouver for trying something different.
Keep it up "lotus-land".