SPEAKERS
Charly Borenstein-Regueira (Mom)
Meg (cousin)
Like you, I have spent the last three weeks reliving my memories of Halley.
It is hard to believe that today is Halley’s 30th birthday because when I close my eyes the image of Halley that is always there is this sharply dressed child who was wise beyond his years, giving the best man speech at Charly and Rey’s wedding. I can’t remember exactly what he said but I remember laughing and crying at the same time. I asked him about the wedding speech later. No one had coached him. He said that he knew that the best man should give a speech and he really wanted to say something special for his mom and Rey. When he was younger he always wanted to be impeccably dressed and all he wanted for his 5th birthday was a suit and tie.
As he grew up, his fashion sense changed but his thoughtfulness stayed with him. He was insightful and funny, gracious and charming. He loved making us laugh. He was generous with his time and with his talents and he was always ready to help a friend or a stranger in need. This is how I remember Halley.
Halley’s musical talent was remarkable. In the last few weeks, I have been listening to Halley’s work more and appreciating it through different ears. Like many great artists, Halley’s music was a reflection of his struggle. Through his suffering, he created something beautiful.
For those of you who don’t know me, I am Halley’s cousin, Megan. I am also the most optimistic person you will ever meet. I am annoyingly optimistic. I find ways to be thankful for car accidents, the rain, cancer, and even cancelled Uber rides. In my work as a physician, I deal with life and death every day. Being thankful helps me smile even on the hard days. I am going to be honest, it is hard to find things to be thankful for after you lose someone, especially when it is a young person who was just beginning his life. It has been hard for me to be thankful these last few weeks. Unfortunately, we remember this feeling of loss all too well. We lost Halley’s father, Hermes, to cancer at the age of 22 when Halley was just a baby. I was only a child then but I remember my family was trying hard to find things to be thankful for. “We are so thankful that his suffering is over. We are so thankful for the time that we had with him. We are so impressed how he fought the cancer so bravely.” They would say.
Halley died of a life threatening chronic disease just like his father yet the way we talk about young people who die from addiction is different than the way we talk about young people who die from cancer. As a society we use the words ‘Hero, fighter and survivor’ but these are not the words we use to describe addicts who succumb to their disease. These are not the images invoked when a life is lost to a battle with addiction. As a physician, I am not sure why there is a distinction between the two. Cancer and addiction are both life-threatening diseases. The causes of both are poorly understood. They both cause suffering of the afflicted and their loved ones. Treatment for both diseases is hard and heart wrenching and relapse is often deadly.
I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time on the day that Halley made the decision to get treatment for his disease and I brought him to rehab on July 4th. After seeing him struggle and suffer for years, I finally saw hope in his eyes.
He smiled as he talked about the things that he would do while he was in rehab and the things he would do once he was out in the world again. He talked about the music he would write. He knew that going to get treatment would be difficult but he believed that it was worth it. He said that he knew it would help him and he knew it would help Charly.
Halley worked diligently and was dedicated to his treatment plan. Charly fought to get Halley the best possible care even when Halley was turned away from countless treatment centers who said that Halley’s case was too severe and that he needed more help than they could offer. Charly didn’t give up and neither did Halley. When we finally found the right facility, Halley blossomed. He found peace in his recovery.
Through hard work, Halley was able to take down the wall around him that was built by his disease. Once the wall came down, we could see that Halley was the same kind, thoughtful and generous person he had always been. We had the opportunity to get to know him again, to go to Saints games together, to have brunch with him. He made new friends in the recovery community and started writing music with abandon. He played foursquare and meditated. He was incredibly thankful. He sought out opportunities to help others suffering from addiction as he made plans for the future.
When I got the call that Halley had died I was on a trip with 4 friends who are all physicians. I was ugly crying when it was time to leave for dinner. “What’s wrong?” they asked. One of them turned to the others and said Meg’s cousin just died. And then she half covered her mouth and whispered “Of a heroin overdose.” At the time, I was crying too hard to admonish her but later I insisted that we talk about it. We need to talk about the addiction epidemic openly and not in a whisper. We need to talk about and treat addiction like the life threatening disease it is. We need to erase the shame associated with it and encourage our loved ones with addiction to get the help that they need. We need to fight for them to get it.
Charly and Rey are a stunning example of parents fighting for their child to get the best possible care. So many people with addiction don’t have a family who can fight for them. Halley was lucky to have such dedicated parents. I find solace in knowing that we did everything possible to help save Halley from his disease. Halley’s disease was just too great.
We cannot save everyone with cancer and we cannot save everyone with addiction but we have to try. Without the help that Halley received, we wouldn’t have had that amazing period of recovery and sobriety that allowed us to reconnect with Halley before we lost him. Those last few months with Halley were a gift.
After several weeks of reflection, my eternal optimism has returned and I have found some things to be thankful for.
I am thankful that Halley was so diligent in recording his music. Isn’t it wonderful to be able to see him playing the guitar? I am thankful that Charly and Rey fought so hard for Halley. I am thankful that we had these last several months to get to know Halley again. I am thankful that Halley had the strength to fight his disease for as long as he did. I am proud of him for asking for help and for his dedication to recovery. Halley made the decision to fight his addiction and get treatment for his disease even though he knew it would be hard, even though he knew he might not survive. That is bravery in its purest form.
I will remember Halley’s strength and his bravery. I will remember Halley as a hero.
Happy Birthday Halley. I love you.
Isaac (friend of Halley)
Dear friends, for those of you who know me, it’s good to see you again, for some it’s been many years. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Isaac Riisness. I didn’t know Halley as an adult, but throughout our childhood and early teenage years, I spent almost every weekend with Halley on the Northshore where he visited his grandparents.
In celebration of his life, I’m honored to share a childhood memory from a party on New Year’s Eve 1999. Throughout the year and especially in the weeks leading up to Y2K, there was a feeling of nervous excitement about what might happen in the first few minutes of the new Millennium. The feeling gave special significance to this particular evening. Naturally, many people wanted to be the “first” to do something in the 21st century.
For Halley, it was backflips. So there we were, out in the backyard, jumping on the trampoline while Halley practiced backflips leading up to midnight. Halley’s grandparents had decorated the yard with Christmas lights and hung a large Y2K Christmas light sign directly above the trampoline. At the appropriate time, all the other kids abandoned the trampoline and Halley started to do backflips continuously while his step-grandpa Jack took photo after photo trying to capture the perfect flip with the blazing Y2K sign in the background. This was before digital cameras became ubiquitous, so you couldn’t preview the result.
As a quieter and more taciturn kid, I credit Halley for pushing me to get out there and just have fun. In celebration of his life, I’d like to say thank you Halley for all the love and for being part of the very best memories from childhood.
Ian (friend of Halley)
My first memory of Halley is from about thirteen years ago, the first time he baby-sat me. I was so excited for my mom to get home, because honestly I couldn’t wait to tell her how lazy and irresponsible Halley was. Who did this guy think he was? I was only six and he comes into my home bringing his girlfriend, and for good measure starts watching Ghost in the Shell, at the time that anime honestly scared me shitless. My first impression of Halley was pretty damn low. But, just like Ghost in the Shell, Halley grew on me. Fortunately he was the son of my mom’s best friend so it would be pretty hard to shake him from my life. In middle school I’d see Halley at Christmas eve dinners, and honestly thank god he was there to play Mario Cart, and talk about anything random and kind of nerdy. Seriously that was probably the most entertained I ever was at a family gathering. Last Christmas Halley showed up, and this time he was the life of the party for everyone. This guy shows up with Tarot Cards and does readings for me, my friend, and even my mom. More than that though, this man had such an interesting life, and he knew so many cool interesting facts it was impossible not to hold a conversation with him. After that Halley and I traded numbers, and he became a fast friend. Even after I went back to college we kept in touch just texting about random topics, usually ragging on PC culture or something like that. Right now this all sounds like a really generic speech, but the point is it’s very rare we stop and think about how lucky we really are to have someone in our life who actually changed it for the better. With so many people in the world so many things had to go both right and wrong for all of us to meet Halley, and I’m so glad things went the way they did. Charlie and Rey you both raised a great son, take a lot of pride in that. Even if it was just one text in a day or hanging out at his house for just an hour Halley made my life better every day he was involved in it. It honestly kicks ass that I was able to grow up knowing someone who had charisma, an insane passion for music, and just the ability to be a genuinely nice person to anyone he was around whether they were a complete stranger or not. In the time I have to give this speech I can’t vocalize what it meant having Halley in my life all these years, it’s intangible, but it’s a feeling none of us will ever let go of. Halley you’re a good person.
Jesse (uncle)
Hi, my name is Jesse. I’m Halley’s uncle.
I am definitely a big fan of this mysterious music man with the thunderous voice, who had such a presence in any room he walked into.
[PLAYED MUSIC) “It’s dat New Orleans” sample from–BEEZ IN THE TRVP]
I didn’t get to be a part of Halley’s everyday life because I live in Hawaii, and he had a certain shyness, but I would listen to his tracks whenever he posted them up and I really liked his music. Like Halley, I love hip hop and electronic music.
When I heard about “track marks” I wrote you a letter from Hawaii straight away. In that letter I was frank with you, told you you should get rid of your money and get a job actually. Not in a million years did I ever expect it, but you called me up and said “Thank you for writing that letter”.
I wonder if there is any person in this room who doesn’t feel they have narrowly escaped death. That said, this young man’s passing was a true shocker— I am devastated in ways I didn’t even expect.
Halley’s mixes are almost impossible to describe for me, But I’ll try: the are potent, raw, rich, milkshakes of dance and rap mixes, all the while showing his disdain for anything status quo. He was uncompromising,
passionate and original.
[PLAYED MUSIC- TUPAC- “Pour a little liquor”]
So for me, Halley had a masterful overview of so much music, often seeming to find the most unexpected, off-the-wall samples. This is the part where you see his creative gifts, and that is the shame here I guess— that a young person with so much talent didn’t get to take it all the way.
But then his death has opened many hearts, and, I believe, new paths.
As a footnote— I hope this event saves one of you here today. Pursuing pleasure — there is nothing wrong with that— but just don’t take it too far. So I am hoping this event today saves at least one person.
Rex (family friend — friend of his father Hermes)
Rex wrote this and Tatiana read it:
Halley was a relentlessly human, creative, and tormented soul; a recording artist and a leader, organizing shows, drawing crowds to his performances, and making a soundtrack for many younger people’s lives, lives I know almost as little about as Halley’s.
I think it’s a better idea to judge the lives of artists differently than we judge family men, careerists, businessmen, and the like.
First, we can look at their body of work. For artists, the works they leave behind are as important as children are to conventional men as we look back at their lives. Halley made plenty of music in his almost thirty years.
We can look at integrity, and I can’t see any evidence of this kid ever selling out. We can look at the sacrifices they make to focus on their art, and the tragedies that befall them as they try to chase something ephemeral that can never be caught. Halley made the sacrifices and finally suffered the tragedy.
Charles Bukowski said, “Find what you love, and let it kill you.” He didn’t mean that quickly, Halley, dammit, but I’m going to think of your life as complete rather than cut-short. I love you, and I still love your father, who lived on in you more than you knew.
Sarah (family friend)
Halley, in the many years I knew you, you rarely let me truly see you.
Once, very late the night of this past July 3, you appeared out of nowhere, walking down the street past my house. You asked if you could come sit a bit and rest. I felt your exhaustion—your soul-weariness—as we sat in silence. The night was hot. We smoked. You asked for water. And when it was time for me to return to the work I was doing under a deadline, you asked if you could stay there on the porch a little longer. The next day, your mom called me early in the morning. You were ready to detox, and for the very first time in my years of knowing you, we drove you willingly in search of treatment.
Another time, not long after Christmas, you stopped by to pick up a check. It was a bright, sunny morning. You were right on time, and looked clean and healthy. You’d come from a meeting. We sat on the porch, and I watched you jab at your phone, explaining your schedule to me. In order to leave sober living, you needed to make sure you could fill your evenings with activities. Those were the hardest times to fill. You put your phone down and we sat in silence. I felt the weight of time—so heavy in your struggle with addiction. Every single second presented a decision. After a bit, you picked up your phone and left to go to another meeting.
That was the last time I saw you. We came and went in one another’s lives barely touching.
I knew you best through Charly’s eyes and heart. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to help you overcome addiction. It had robbed her of her son. Hers was the fierce love of a mother, always on your side, whether you believed it or not. In the last six months of your life, in your sobriety, Charly found you again—the child born to her, her kind-hearted, creative, brilliant son of Hermes and Rey. Nothing—not relapse—not even death—will ever take away her finally knowing you again, in full adulthood.
Thank you Halley. Thank you, for all you shared with so many. Thank you for the soul-searching you inspired. Thank you for your wit. Thank you for your music. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for our porch time.
May you find peace.
Leela: (family friend)
Opening ~
Thank you all for coming together to celebrate Halley Nevada Borenstein’s life.
We have this opportunity to share our experiences, our feelings and hearts with one another. Every day is a precious gift; we never know when it will be our last. Today we are grateful to be alive, to be together.
Music was Halley’s life so naturally we will begin and end with song.
Sarah Porter sang “One” by U2
Followed by 12 speakers:
- Charly
- Meg
- Ben
- Tyler
- Isaac
- Ian
- Norm
- Tony
- Jesse
- Tatiana (on behalf of Rex)
- Sarah
12) Aunt Sacha and cousins sang “I’ll Fly Away”
13) Leela:
Charly recently shared a story with me from Halley’s childhood.
When Halley was about 5 years old he was walking up the steps to his house with a friend. One of the boys stepped on a caterpillar. Halley’s friend became increasingly more upset as he looked at the squished caterpillar. Halley sat down on the step and took off his shoe then he took off his sock. He put his sock on his hand and showed it to his friend then he took the sock off. With his big compassionate heart he showed his friend that the caterpillar was not dead it had only shed it’s body.
In Bhagavad Gita chapter 2 verse 20 it is said, “For the soul there is never birth nor death. Nor having once been does he ever cease to be. He is unborn, eternal, ever existing, undying and primeval. He is not slain when the body is slain.”
Halley, you shed the body we would recognize you in yet you live on fully and in so doing we pray that you are now liberated from the struggles you had and are flying high on the reality of knowing you never were that body or those struggles. You are a pure eternal being full of love and knowledge.
Join me in reciting a mantra, a prayer to bless and purify this assembly:
