To the Addict I Lost,
I’ve always thought addiction was intricately woven into our family, and I was right. You can’t run from addiction, and it does not discriminate. Addiction came into our lives like a wrecking ball, its only intent to wound our family and take you with it. Your death taught me that you can’t hide from addiction and, sometimes, you can’t even stop it before it wags its dirty little finger in your face and says, “I know you love (insert loved one’s name here), but they loved me more.”
From your stints in rehab, jail, or missing, to the pain you caused our family, the shame I felt for a very long time, the shame that we all felt, to the panic our family felt when they couldn’t find you, or the news reported that someone died in a drunk driving accident of an overdose, I learned that addiction does not care about how good of a person you are, or how much your family loves you and needs you. I learned this from the call I received, saying that you had passed away one morning with the pungent odor of your addiction still present.
Regardless of all the pain you caused our family, I can’t be upset with you. I can’t say I blame you, either. You were too busy trying to numb your own pain to notice ours. Through all of the pain of the last six months, I’ve come to the conclusion that the man that we all loved was sitting inside of you, waiting to be free again. With his contagious laugh, good looks, loving personality and great sense of humor, he was trying to break through the walls that addiction had built to keep him locked away.
We can mark a before and after in family photos now; before the addiction, after the addiction, before your death, after your death. Our family is still growing, laughing, and loving, but it’s a little different now. There is no one to light up the room with his laugh like you did. There is no one to give everyone nicknames. There isn’t somebody rolling up to family events, well dressed and ready to show off. Family photos aren’t as full and our memories are missing an important piece. Now there will be weddings, births and graduations without you present. However, it is my promise to you that I will never let a new member of the family go without knowing how wonderful and kind you were.
If I could have told you one thing before the drugs claimed your last breath, it would have been that we need you here more than you need the drugs. I, alone, love you more than the drugs ever could, and no one is better off without you here. If I could have just five minutes with you here, I would apologize for not reaching out, for ignoring the fact that you were truly sick and that addiction could steal you away at any moment. I would thank you for teaching me that life is meant to be lived with the ones we love and love us back. I am filled with joy that you are free from your addiction and your body is no longer property of any drug.
All my love,
Anna
