A few summers ago, my uncle moved home from Columbus to “be closer to his family,” and to “find a job.” For most of the time he was living in the Youngstown area, he lived with my mom in a spare bedroom of her home and spent his days fixing up things for my grandpa because he couldn’t hold a steady job. My mom bought him a phone and paid the bill, my grandparents paid for his gas and cigarettes, and he ate whatever was available at my mom’s or my grandparents’ house. Basically, he was living scot-free; he constantly asked family members for money because he couldn’t make a payment on something, but I always found myself wondering what kind of bills he could possibly have.

Last May, my grandpa began noticing that his credit cards had charges on them that he hadn’t authorized. Occasionally, a few dollars would be missing from my mother’s purse or a ring or necklace would go missing, but no one paid much attention to it. That is, until my grandpa began noticing bigger and bigger transactions on his credit cards and that my uncle was avoiding him more and more. My grandparents confronted my uncle, and he started crying. He said he needed help, he didn’t know who to turn to, and he was in trouble. He admitted to being an active heroin user and opioid abuser. My grandparents knew he had an issue with pain pills and was an avid liar, but they never thought he’d take it to the point of addiction. My grandparents demanded all of their belongings back and forced him out of my mom’s house and told him he had to get to a rehab center in Columbus. That was the last I’d heard of him until this summer, when his ex-wife called and said he was alternating living in a tent in the woods and in a church and had been in and out of jail multiple times.

Addiction ruins lives. Sure, my uncle’s life is basically ruined. He will probably never get a job or live on his own; he might never see his grandchildren grow up because he could overdose. Yet, his life isn’t the one that suffers the most emotional damage. My grandparents had to basically cut their own son out of their lives for his own good and their own. My grandpa has the biggest heart on this earth and I know it killed him to leave his son out in the cold with nowhere to go, but my uncle left him and my grandma no choice. My grandparents basically lost a child to addiction, even though he’s still alive. He’s just too far gone.

Yet, that’s the life that he chose. And it’s perfectly possible to overcome an addiction (check out this

article for more info on that!), but it has to be a choice. You know that old saying, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink? You can also lead an addict to rehab, but you can’t make them quit. My uncle didn’t care about the damage he did to our family; my grandparents still expect calls in the middle of the night telling them that the police found his body. This isn’t meant to be a sob story. It’s tragic, but I hope that it will also be a lesson: addiction is real and it’s all around you. Familiarize yourself with the warning signs and offer help before it’s too late.