Most of you won’t recognize this man, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about him. He’s Steve Clark, the late guitarist for one of many of our favorite bands, Def Leppard, who died on this day back in 1991 due to an unintentional overdose of Valium, Codeine, and alcohol. Although his death wasn’t ruled a suicide:

At the time of his death, Clark was on a leave of absence from Def Leppard. “We’d given him six months off,” recalled Joe Elliott, “told him to go and spend some time in the beautiful house he’d bought in Chelsea, eat some food he’d cooked himself, and take his clothes out of the suitcase and put them in the wardrobe. But instead he spent most of his time in the pub round the corner, and do things like get so drunk he’d fall down the stairs and crack his rib. So he’d be on serious medication for cracked ribs. Then he’d carry on drinking.”^[14] Weeks prior to his death, Clark had registered a blood alcohol level of 0.59%.^[15] On 8 January 1991, Clark was found dead on his couch by his girlfriend.^[4] He was 30 years old. The postmortem revealed that the cause of death was respiratory failure caused by a lethal mixture of alcohol and prescription drugs. At the time of his death, Clark had a blood alcohol level of .30% and morphine in his system.^[4] Daniel Van Alphen, Clark’s drinking companion the night before, testified that they went to a local pub and returned to Clark’s home at midnight to watch a video.

{Steve Clark’s Wikipedia}

So, why am I writing about some dead rock star’s death 33 years later?

BECAUSE IT’S IMPORTANT!

While even the best of us Leppard fans will ever really understand the full context behind these powerful lyrics, I’m apt to believe that Joe and Phil weren’t just expressing their feelings of losing their beloved friend and bandmate, but more so sending out a message to anyone who’s either been on a “wide-eyed suicide drive” or battled with an addiction dragon to carefully consider the err in their often deadly ways:

… as if you’d ever go and make that same mistake.

“Blood running cold” is, indeed, what I physically feel in my bones every time I hear the lonely, somber chords at the intro, then immediately flash to what it must have been like for my husband in the front seat of his car that night … Springfield in hand … “screaming out in pain” in not just that moment, but the years, months, and hours before he pulled that trigger. Although the imagery is all but unbearable, I belive it’s a necessary evil for those who’ve either survived a Molotov cocktail of darkness, depression, or addiction, or, like me, been left to walk through the aftermath of losing someone to such a tragic truth. For me, it serves as poignant reminder to neither let the night come crawlin’ back my way again or let my halo fall when it starts to slip, because LIVING really IS the best revenge I can play to anyone who’s ever hurt me.

FUCK that … and FUCK them!

To anyone reading this who is now or has ever considered engaging in either active or passive suicidality, please know that losing you in this way will inflict unspeakable amounts of pain on those you leave behind. Live! Just LIVE, damnit! LIVE! It really is the best revenge you can play to anyone or anything that’s ever hurt or broken you to the point of what could be your own demise, I promise. While I personally know that “trying to save yourself” isn’t always that easy, you deserve much better than anything less than blood that runs warm.

BLOOD RUNS COLD

I heard this line one time ’bout tryin’ to save the world, but have you ever tried to save yourself? A wide-eyed suicide drive remains a fake. As if you’d ever … ever go and make the same mistake. Strung out as the night comes crawlin’ … your halo of thorns is fallin’. Blood runs cold … I feel it in my bones … but you don’t know your time is up. Blood runs cold. Somebody somewhere is screamin’ out the words, but do they ever really ease the pain? I guess what I’m trying to say is whose life is it anyway, because livin’ … living is the best revenge you can play. This fall from grace … I see your face … It’s over. From you, love was kind … resolved, left scarred and blind … wasted and naked in the wings. Denying twist of fate … demanding Heaven’s gate … lying in wait above the wind. {Def Leppard}