My wife Judy and I have lost two sons to addiction.
Both boys were beautiful, loving, kind human beings whose lives were senselessly cut short. Though they were my stepsons, I loved them as if they were my own. Michael, the oldest, was stabbed to death in a park in Los Angeles in 1995. Casey, the youngest, died of a heroin overdose in our Gresham, Oregon home in 2005. I'll never forget the pain of having to tell my wife, twice, that we had lost sons. Both times I thought she would die in my arms. Her agony haunts me deeper than anything I've ever known...
I also lost a lifelong friend to a heroin overdose (on heroin I had bought for us) the night before I checked myself into rehab in March of 1999. I have been clean and sober since.
Not everyone need die or have their lives and the lives of their loved ones decimated by addiction. I hope that in some small way my story of recovery, and the stories of the loved ones we've lost, will encourage others who are mired in their addiction to seek help, for there IS help. And where there is life, there is hope.
I wish you peace, always.