Megan grew up in Chicago raised pretty much by her grandparents and an off again mother. She was accepted to Lane tech high in Chicago, which she prided herself on. Megan hung out with the "other "kids. The punks, the derelicts, and the ones who came from hard families. She loved her friends and they loved her right back. Unfortunately, she also had to deal with her mother's boyfriends and whomever else she brought home. Megan was sexually abused by a live in boyfriend of her mom. This man also had a child with her mom. This really broke Megan at a tender age. She told me she felt disgusting and it was very hard to cope. For bringing it to light would also land her in the middle of drunk rages by her mom and step dad. Megan told me that life at that point in her life was hard to live. Megan turned to alcohol and street drugs. By 19, she was using heroin on a daily basis.
Megan began having health problems at a young age. She found out she was anemic when she was 20. She began the road to absesses and scarring due to the IV use. At 26, she got a blood infection that spread to a bone in her arm. She had to have her ulna removed from her arm, leaving her with limited use of her left arm and two fingers. The day she came home from the hospital she was shooting again. Megan had no support system after her grandma passed away in 2006. It broke her heart and left her all alone. She dove deeper into defying gravity. If she got high she didn't have to feel the pain of what was her life. She loved her grandma more than anything. I met Megan in 2014 and we married six weeks later. I myself am an addict. Megan loved to read. She and I would lay in bed all day, reading. She was so smart. I am 10 years older, and she was telling me things I never knew and never would have known if not for her. She was very giving. She always made sure I was taken care of. We took care of each other. Now, during all this time, Megan's mom and three brothers did not offer any kind of support. They treated her as a leper. And she loved them harder. She could always flip negativity into love. She was my best friend. My only friend. During this time Megan had about four surgieries to fix her right and left legs that had massive abscesses and was told to stop shooting. Megan shot right into the open wounds for five years. In April of 2017, Megan was shot in a botched robbery attempt in an uber cab. She was brought to the hospital and was rushed into surgery. They had to leave the bullet in her hip bone. But she survived. Three days after coming home all of the 90 oxys were gone and she was back to shooting heroin and fentanyl. Megan and I separated, but we spent more time together than we used to. I would come over and clean her place. We had dinners together often. We read, we laughed, we danced. I last saw my wife, friend, confidant,on March 8. She said she thought she had pneumonia, and she looked frail and gloomy. She went to the hospital and they sent her to a better more equipped hospital. She didn't have pneumonia, she had a blood infection that was destroying her kidneys and since she had the bullet still in her hip they could not give her an MRI. Megan awoke at 730 am on March 14, ate her food, and barked at the nurse cause she was not well. The story I got was that out of nowhere her kidneys failed and the infection went to her heart and her brain leaving her brain dead. Megan died at 814 am. She was my heart. My wife. My rock. She was the toughest women I ever knew. Resilient to a fault. I did not see her in the hospital. I wouldn't go to the funeral. Nothing. I wanted the last time I saw her to be the last memory I had with her. Not in a hospital. Not in a box. She was a great person. She lived, she laughed, she loved. I am honored to be her husband and honored to carry her memory in my heart.