“This is addiction.
It’s a 3 a.m. phone call that we knew was coming, but prayed it never would.
It’s a doctor having to tell another family that their loved one is legally brain dead.
It’s a mother’s heart being ripped out from her chest.
This is a room (and a whole hospital waiting room) full of brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends beating themselves up that they didn’t do more to save you.
It’s a daughter and a son who have to figure this world out without their dad.
This is an empty chair at every family event.
This is waking up on Monday morning feeling empty, feeling angry, because how could you do this to us?
It’s feeling sad because we know you fought so hard to recover.
It’s feeling guilty because we wonder if we could of done more to save you.
It’s feeling a sense of relief that you’re no longer battling your demons.
It’s finding comfort in knowing the caucasian John Doe they have in the morgue isn’t you.
This is a man who loved with everything he had.
A man who valued family more than anything.
A father who adored his children.
A son, a brother, a goofy uncle, a friend to anyone who had the pleasure to know him.
This is ‘just one more time.’
‘Just a little hit.’
‘I know my tolerance.’
This is 6 months without you and still not knowing how to process that you’re gone.
This is addiction.
Drugs don’t love you. Your family and friends do.”
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This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Nichole Cicotte. You can follow this family’s journey on Facebook. Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.
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