“He always answered my calls. But on Sunday morning, he didn’t. And I just knew. My son gave a gut wrenching scream that didn’t sound like it could come from a 6-year-old.”
‘He was my best friend. The last thing he said to me was: ‘I’m ok mom, I love you too.’ That was at 10:20 on Saturday night.’
‘Mom, we have to take them home.’ It was so hard to look at these girls and not cry. It was like looking into the eyes of my sister, eyes I had not seen in 8 years, eyes I would never see again.’
“The woman who had the girls was not at all family, but a friend from church. They had been removed from her care and were in a foster home. After we got off the phone, I panicked – what was I going to do?”
‘It was a busy day for me in the ER. I had 5 very sick patients. When I checked my phone, I had 10 missed calls. I called my dad back and he told me to sit down. My heart instantly sank.’
“I scanned the monitors and medications as any good nurse would do. I then saw my sister. And I knew.”
‘I prayed for him to be arrested. I didn’t want my brother to be harmed, but I wanted him safe. I wanted him to have a chance. I knew if he ran, it would not end well.’
“I finally got the courage to empty the room where you once slept, back when you were you. I have finally processed the pain. I’ve finally stopped blaming myself – for the most part.”
‘Today is a monumental day. A few months ago I wrote about my son’s struggle with addiction. A miracle came from that post.’
“I received a message from a stranger in Missouri who said she could help us if we were interested. Not being one to ask for help, I was really hesitant to respond.”
‘The other day I read I was a victim. Because my son died, I am considered a victim. I threw the book away.’
“I never thought I would laugh again. I didn’t deserve it. I lost a child. I had no right to be happy.”
‘To some, Maddie was just a junkie — when they saw her addiction, they stopped seeing her. And what a loss for them.’
“Though we would have paid any ransom to have her back, any price in the world, this disease would not let her go until she was gone.”
‘I’d flip the TV off, say goodnight to my parents, head to the bathroom, grab my sunglasses case, opening it up to my spoon, baggies, and needle. Into my veins the heroin would go.’
“‘I can do this, and I will,’ I thought, ‘just not today.’ I was now using in secret. All day, every day.”
‘The days I spent as an intern in the White House seemed far behind me. After all, I was an addict. A junkie. And a gay man, too.’
“Today, more than 20 people I know and love have been killed by overdoses. Those people’s moms and dads didn’t stop believing in them, ever. But that didn’t save their lives.”
‘The day of my wedding, I thought I deserved a treat. I picked up a needle and got loaded before I got married. I thought I could do it once, and not again. I was wrong.’
“She was pregnant and wanted to keep it, but said I needed to go to treatment. When I got back, we could work on our marriage and have the child. Within that month she had a miscarriage.”
