Author Description

My son suffered from addiction for ten years, and I suffered with him. Now he is free, and I am left to cope. No more excuses, No more shame. No more hiding. I understand now, and I can say it with quiet pride. I am the mother of a child who died from an overdose. It breaks my heart, but I will say it. I was the mother of an addict. I was, and am, also the mother of a beloved child. Do not turn away from me. I am not jinxed. It is not contagious. My presence and influence are no danger to you or yours. Do not judge me. This did not happen because I caused it, deserved it, or failed to stop it. I have four children, and only one suffered this fate. I do not know why, and neither do you. Do not tell me we should have tried harder. You have no idea of our struggle. Do not judge my child. He was more than the label “addict” can ever tell you. He was smart. He was funny. He was a wonderful father. He was needed. He was loved. He is missed by many. If all you see is “addict,” you do not know my child. Do not pity me. I struggled along with my child, and I struggle still. Grief is the price of losing something precious and irreplaceable. I would not trade my 29 years with my son. I have memories sweeter than many other people will ever be able to embrace. Do not pity my child. He struggled, but he also lived. He brought a beautiful daughter into this world. He helped everyone he knew, and many people he did not know. The world is a better place because he was in it, and he enjoyed life to the fullest. Do not question me. I did the best I could do to help my child. I do not know if things would have been different if I had tried a different approach, and neither do you. In fact, we tried many approaches. Failure to win is not the same as failure. If you have not lived it, you can never understand the intensity of my efforts, just as I still struggle to understand the depth of his. Do not blame me.<b