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We share real life stories that will touch your heart. And bring reality to the war we are currently in with the Opioid epidemic. 

An addict is someone’s loved one:

I have heard a lot of people say negative things about addicts or addiction. Some say that an addict is worthless or that we should just let them all die. So I am here to say think before you speak. Maybe you have not been affected by this terrible epidemic, and therefore you do not understand. So I am going to share with you about my addict, my son, my best bud. He was not a bum on the street, and neither he nor anyone else in this tragic epidemic deserves to die. 
Let me tell you about my loving son, my addict.
My addict weighed 10lbs 5oz and was born at 3:53pm on January 5th, 1987.
My addict was my sweet precious little boy with a big bright smile from the day he was born. His whole life he was complimented on his intellect and sense of humor by anyone that in one way or another came in contact with him. He was not only intelligent; he also had a beautiful heart and had a strong love for his family and animals. He would always protect his brothers and sisters. And care for stray animals. 
My addict, from the time he was little, had the biggest heart and wanted to help others, and one day become a firefighter. He was so proud in the 5th, 6th, 7th grade to be on the honor role. He played soccer, T-ball and later baseball, in junior high he played basketball and in high school he played football, yes I was the crazy mom on the side lines cheering him on. 
My addict always cooked Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner for the family and did clean up not letting me or his grandma do any work on holidays or for mother’s day or our birthdays. 
My addict loved Moose Tracks ice cream, and cheese cake. 
My addict loved hiking in Arizona. His name, Gary, means warrior. He always told me, "Mom one day I am going to be the one taking care of you."
My addict always tried to get out of family camping trips when he hit his teens but as he got older he wanted to start going again and relive those memories. His first time camping he fished with his big brother Justin and his dad and they found a giant turtle. He had so much fun making s’mores. A few summers in a row our flashlight died and we had to hike 2 miles in the dark back to camp from the beach, he always would say “this is great family fun.” 
My addict was a momma’s boy at heart taking me out on mom and son dates, and he would dance with me, even if it was just at home to cheer me up. Growing up, he loved fast cars and motorcycles, going camping, playing sports, teaching himself how to read write and speak German as he was so proud of his German heritage. His favorite buddy was his little brother.
My addict loved the colors red and black, and his black and white checkered shoes.
My addict always was at my side to help me through my trials, my cancer battle, he carried me when I was weak and could not walk, he trained me at the gym after my cancer to get my strength back. He told me “mom whatever it takes. 
My addict loved God and was taught all of his life by me, his grandmother, and church friends. My addict was the altar boy in church volunteering every Sunday. 
My addict loved his family. He was a Mama's boy and his entire life always tried to do things for me just to be sweet and helpful. His siblings annoyed him, but he would not let anyone hurt them. My addict touched many lives. 
My addict loved to write. He often put his feelings on paper. My addict had a smile that would light up a room, and his laughter was contagious.
My addict was not perfect. He made some bad choices, like all of us have. His bad choices ultimately cost him his life.
My addict had to have his mom find him dead that night and hug his cold lifeless body. I now hug his Urn when I get the need to hug him. My addict was so much more than his addiction or his bad choices. Think of that one thing in your life that you've done that you're ashamed of, that you don't want anyone to know about. Is that the one thing you would want everyone to judge you on?
My addict in the end was given back to me in a bag that weighed 6lbs 8oz, and his mom now sometimes rocks a bag of ashes.
So next time one of you sees someone who struggles with addiction and begins to think negatively about them, know that they are much more than just an addict. Know that those are the ones that need the most love not the most judgment. Know that that person is someone's loved one, someone's world, someone's everything, and you should thank God that it's not yours, because addiction doesn't discriminate, it doesn't know color, race, social, or financial status.

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