Subject: RE: Obit: Ron Hynes (1950-2015)
From:
PHJim
Date: 26 Nov 15 - 08:25 PM
I have heard that many folks and fans of Ron were under the illusion that he had his addiction under control, but his family and close friends were aware that his addiction controlled him to the end. Here's a note from his nephew:
from Joel Thomas Hynes
A note to say thank you for all the messages and emails and phone calls and handshakes and hugs and tears and laughs and stories. It's been rough, hard to know where to put all this. Personally, I've never experienced such bottomless grief and my heart goes out to all his many loved ones - family, friends and admirers of his music and enigmatic character.
Ron was a fiercely ambitious, prolific artist, a wondrous man with a brilliant gift, no contest. But while his passing is still fresh in everyone's hearts and minds, I'm feeling a sense of duty to offer up a hard truth that's being downplayed or overlooked in all this - the reality of what his battle has been these past years. Yes he died of cancer, but cancer was a seemingly inevitable symptom of the much darker, much more aggressive, hungrier "disease" of addiction. Ron died with next to nothing left, emotionally estranged from those who tried their best to reach him, materially destitute, spiritually adrift, physically shattered. It was beyond shocking how much he resembled his father on his deathbed. Except my grandfather was 92 years old, and for all that, grandfather had a bit more light in his eyes.
Ron had no property to call his own, had sold all his priceless, historic guitars for a pittance to feed his demons and line the pockets of drug dealers. There was a time, when he moved to Ferryland after my grandmother died, when those of us close to him thought, wow, he just might make it. He just might let himself grow old with his guitar out on the deck with a cup of tea, watching the grass grow and counting his blessings. But that obviously wasn't to be the case. Despite what you may have heard, or thought, or hoped, he remained a hardcore addict right to his final days. And it killed him. That's what killed him. He passed the point where he was strong enough to save himself. And he was surrounded by so much love, so much worry and heartache and concern, so many loyal hearts who were desperate to offer him help that he just couldn't or wouldn't accept. And in the end he chose drugs over everything and everyone he ever loved. And he let himself die. And that's the hard truth. Being a lifelong addict myself, educated and in recovery now these past number of years, I find that so frustrating and infuriating and near impossible to swallow. So much rage here, so much confusion, remorse, guilt, just bottomless heartache for what we've lost and why. I can't imagine what everyone else is going through. Really, where does one put all this? What good can come of it?
Ten years ago Newfoundland was suddenly a "have" province. Oil money, people coming home in droves to work. And with all that money came more drugs than our little island could possibly cope with. And after all that nothing has been done - we're in a recession now for another ten years - HMP is busting at the seams, a crumbling cesspool of violence and drugs blocked full of Newfoundland boys from little towns on the Southern Shore, Placentia Bay, Trinity Bay, St. Mary's Bay, who are not gifted like Ron, who don't have the adulation of thousands of people, boys with nothing and no one in their lives to offer them the help they need. And 99 percent of them are locked up because of drugs and alcohol and mental illness. It takes an average of three months for an addict to get just an assessment for counselling.
A few years back Ireland declared binge drinking and drug abuse to be a national emergency and I can't help but believe the same applies for our beautiful little island too. Newfoundland and Labrador needs help. We are crying out for real leadership. We are fucking DYING for proper facilities to treat our addictions and our mental illnesses. The whole province is privy to what drugs and addiction did to one of its most cherished sons. A brilliant musician who could have had the world in the palm of his hands, but instead choose to hide in the back alleys and bathroom stalls of grungy bars, who sold his life's blood chasing a darkness that deceived him right to his final breath.
I don't know what can be done from here on, what demands can be made, but surely someone out there possesses the heart and the charisma and the tenacity and the selflessness to exact some change where it's needed most. You know someone right now who is suffering like Ron suffered. Don't let another day pass. Educate yourself. Stand up. Demand a better outcome. I'm going to miss Ron every day for the rest of my life. I hope it gets easier with time and I hope it gets easier for all of you. But most of all I hope there's a lesson, and some positive, lasting change that can come of his tragic, senseless, untimely passing. Wishing you all peace and resilience and good health on all your journeys, and as Ron would say - safe home. Xxx jth
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