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Sara Abra Babrove

Age 47
A bright and shining star
Sara Babrove
Age 47
47

Sara was the second oldest of my four children. Unknown to us at the time, she started experimenting with drugs when she was around twelve years old. As her friends became more negative, her behavior became uncontrollable. She was always a good student and over the years earned a master's degree. But it was difficult for her to keep jobs; she continued to make poor decisions; and to choose negative people to be with. Sara had always refused to go into rehab or counseling. But in 2015, she checked herself into detox and then a rehab program after overdosing on heroin. She was finally clean. She was able to get an apartment, and for the first time in many years, a car. Sara attended NA meetings and worked hard to support herself and her daughter. Last year, financial difficulties set in and she couldn't make any money. She became discouraged and bitter. When she died suddenly on February 28th of this year, I had no idea what had happened. Deep down I didn't want to think drugs had come back into her life, but they had. I don't know how long she had been using again. But I do know that in those four years, Sara and I found something we hadn't had for many, many years--friendship. And I miss her--I miss her phone calls, her occasional visits, and I just miss her.

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David Scott Starr

Age 28
Brother, friend, kind and giving
David Starr
Age 28
28

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Standing in the kitchen when I got the call, I dropped to my knees and screamed so loud, so long in agony…I’m surprised my lungs didn’t explode.

I remember my son’s arms wrapping around me asking me “What’s wrong mommy, don’t cry.”

Stumbling up the stairs to his best friend’s room, waking him up out of his sleep, stuttering out the words I once hoped I’d never have to say, “he’s gone.”

I remember lying on the floor, profusely crying, as he tried to sweep me up and get me on my feet. I remember screaming into a pillow so that my son couldn’t hear my pain.

All the pain, the tears, the screaming…it still hadn’t set in…my twin brother died that day.

It wasn’t long until my son noticed something wasn’t right. With all of the crying and the phone calls, and the scrambling to fly out, he knew something bigger was going on.

That’s when I heard the words that broke my heart, “mom, what’s wrong with my uncle?”

How do you explain to an eight-year-old that someone he loved so much wasn’t coming home again? How do you explain to a little boy that his “roommate” wouldn’t be his roommate any longer? How do you explain to your child that his uncle was taken from us? The perfect answer is that you don’t.

I waited hours, I contemplated how to draft the perfect response to his question, but I knew no response would help the pain that he was about to endure.

I recalled a conversation I had with him a few months prior, when my brother was in rehab. He had asked me when his uncle was coming home. At that time, I kept it vague, “Your uncle is sick, and he is spending time with the doctors to try to get better.” But now, I have to give him a different response, one that he will understand, I will have to answer his questions and try to mend his broken heart all at the same time.

“Baby, you remember when your uncle was with the doctors and they were trying to make him all better to come back home to us? Well they couldn’t make him better. They tried and they tried but he wasn’t getting better. Your uncle went to heaven.”

At eight years old, I wasn’t expecting the next words to come out of his mouth…” Mom, when will he be back?”

I knew he didn’t understand, but how could you expect a child so young to comprehend something so tragic and unexplainable? We spend years as mothers trying to protect our children from the hate that consumes our world, but I proceeded to explain, “buddy, he isn’t coming back. He is watching over you and he is finally free of pain, he is finally happy.”

The hours started to fade, as I booked a flight, scrambled to pack a bag, and rushed to the airport to be by my family’s side.

My brother had struggled with drug abuse since 2014. It started out simple, he’d smoke weed here and there…but eventually that wasn’t enough. He moved on to trying new, stronger drugs.

I remember walking into his room one night, “Sis, I love you and I’m so sorry”. He was overdosing (for the first time) on PCP. I can remember running to our dad, calling 911, and waiting as the ambulance arrived. I remember going to the hospital and seeing him just coming through, not remembering a single thing. I thought that was the scariest moment I’d ever have in my life…I thought that was the only time I’d ever have to fear losing him.

“It was just a one-time thing, I just wanted to try it. I did too much. it won’t happen again.” An addict’s favorite words… “It won’t happen again.”

I watched as this “it won’t happen again” line became habit, and those habits became his lifestyle. The “one time” turned into hundreds of times. The “just for fun” turned into self-destruction.

It always happens again. From PCP, to opioid abuse, to cocaine, to heroin…it got worse and then it got better, and then it got worse again.

My brother faced a loss, the loss of his very best friend, and as I won’t go into details here because that is not my story to tell, I know that loss destroyed him in the same manner that I have been destroyed with losing him today. I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it to the fullest today.

My brother struggled daily with how to move forward. He’d stop abusing, he’d find a steady job, and then he’d hit a speed bump that would reset the cycle. The emotional roller coaster he was on, we were all on. We watched on the days he shinned through healthy and sober, all the same as we watched him hit rock bottom, destroying himself from the inside out. We tried endlessly to put the pieces back together, to lend a hand whenever and however we could.

Over the years, I learned the hard way - you can’t push an addict to get help, they must want help. No matter what you say, no matter what you do – a drug addict will never see the hope in getting help if they find the most satisfaction in their highs.

It seemed like forever until he finally asked for help.

And when an addict asks for help, you help them… right then and there, because if you don’t the moment will pass by.

He spent weeks, weeks debating if he was making the right choice. He spent days crying on the phone begging to be allowed to leave the rehab center he was placed at. In this moment, he forgot to give himself credit – because though he was dying to escape, he was clean for the longest he had been in years. He was 28 days sober.

But he was only sober for 28 days. He was clean, and then like a flick of a light switch, he wasn't.

Several relapses later, another attempt at rehab, a few more trips by ambulance, and countless nights of worry...the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to get farther and farther away. The timeline and incidents all started to blur, as we all just spent day after day trying to figure out how to save him from himself.

I don’t really know when he relapsed again, this last time. I remember our last Christmas together, Christmas 2018, he was healthy, laughing, and best of all, he was sober. He was in a good, positive place. Somewhere between then, and March 9th, 2019, he wasn’t sober anymore.

The two weeks prior to his passing, he overdosed twice. He didn’t know how to stop; he didn’t know when enough was enough.

His last dose, the dose that took his life, his dealer laced with fentanyl. That, that small bit of fentanyl, is what claimed his life. That is what took him away from his family, his friends, all those that loved him.

March 9th, 2019 had become the worst day of my life.

I remember getting on the plane, trying to find anything that would steal my focus for that hour and ten-minute flight, just so that the other travelers wouldn’t have to hear me cry. I landed. I can visually remember walking towards my mom as she tried so hard to stay standing. Do you know how hard it is? Trying to stay strong when you yourself feel broken, destroyed.

Sitting at the funeral home, trying to plan out the details of his ceremony….it felt like a joke. How do you plan out detail by detail of a funeral for someone that shouldn’t have left you? How do you plan out the details for a 28-year-old, for your best friend, for your twin? From ashes to casket, from memorial cards to slideshow, down to the flowers that would sit up front near him…defining the details for an event we didn’t want to attend, that was unbearable.

I remember walking into the room with our family to identify him. I can still see him laying there, lifeless and cold. I remember saying “it’s not him, he’s not in there anymore.” Physically, I knew it was him, but spiritually, he had moved on. He was no longer wearing that smile I loved so much. I could no longer hear his laugh. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn‘t feel his arm around me as it always was, as it should have been. This was goodbye.

At his funeral, we were shocked by the amount of people that came out to support us, to show love for him. We spent hours, hug after hug, apology after apology, feeling the depths of his loss by each one of his friends and family members. His loss touched so many people. After hugging what seemed like 300 people, we sat down for the service.

I remember breaking down with a cry so loud that I was embarrassed. Every person in that room could hear me. With my head in my dad’s hands and my mom kneeling down in front of me, comforting me, I knew I was up next for my speech. I knew in that moment I had to collect myself because I owed my brother that speech. So that’s what I did.

“I want to first start out by telling you all that my brother passed due to an accidental overdose. I don’t owe anyone that explanation, but my brother doesn’t deserve for rumors to be going around about how he left us.

When my brother relapsed, I sent him this message, and it only seemed right to share it here:

“I love you more than anything on this planet. I cannot lose you. I need you to get your life together. You do not see how lucky you are to be on this earth. You see children and parents dying all the time because of cancer or car accidents, things out of their control. Don’t you dare risk your life with drugs, I swear to you it’s not worth it. You are young and have so much potential if you stay on the right path. I know this is not easy, I know it is a challenge every single day. I know sometimes life sucks and you feel at a loss, but you aren’t. You have family that loves you, people that want to help you, people that would do anything for you. You are never alone. I need you; you are my shoulder when things are rough, you are my guidance when I’m lost, you are my laughter when I need it…but most of all, you are my very best friend. Please stop doing this to yourself. I love you so much and I need you to get better, I need you to fight harder because you deserve a better life, and because you are supposed to be here, in this life. I promise it will be worth it if you get it together. I will help you, please just don’t leave me. Please don’t ever scare me like that again. You are too blessed; you are too loved. Don’t ever forget that. You are so much more than you think you are, and you don’t even see it. I love you.”

I could stand up here and go on and on about how much I loved my brother, but you all knew that. You all knew he was such a huge part of me, a huge part of my son. He would want this to be a learning lesson for his friends that are also addicts. He would want his passing to save lives, he would want his passing to be a message to those that are struggling.

My brother was an addict, that had just decided Saturday morning that he was going to get some real help, he didn’t want to be like this anymore…. but he had to do it one last time before he started recovery. That’s all it takes is one time. I look around this room, and though I am so grateful to see my brother so loved, I know so many of you are addicts yourself…my words go to you. Please please, get help, talk to someone, stop doing this to yourself. Stop doing this to your family and your friends, because it’s true, when you take the pain away from yourself, you just pass it on to all those that you leave behind. Look at all of us in this room, look at me, all in pain because one person wanted a bit of relief from his pain.

I’m so so mad at you brother. Now I’m here, picking up the pieces of myself, knowing I’ll never ever feel whole again, because one of the best and biggest parts of me will never come home.

I’ve gone through many and many sorry posts and messages, but there’s two that hit hard as hell. Someone said, “you were his favorite person, you were his rock.” Another person said “Your brother and I would always sit and talk about anything, but he always, always talked about his wonderful twin sister and how much you meant to him. I don’t send this to upset you, but rather to let you know how much you meant to him – and for you to know that he considered you his hero.”

But those words aren’t true, because you were my rock, you ARE my hero.

I hope you’re at peace now. I hope you are sitting next to your best friend cracking jokes, but most of all, I hope you are the happiest you’ve ever been. I love you always my twin.”

That was the hardest speech I ever had to prepare, let alone read in front of 300+ family and friends.

It has now been nine months since he left us….

Nine months, and there are still nights I am wiping tears from my sons’ eyes. Nine months, and there are still days I have to pull over on the side of the road to collect myself. Nine months, and it still aches as if we lost him yesterday.

I share this story, not for sympathy or for support, but simply for those that need help. I want my story to speak volumes and prevent future overdoses. If speaking out can only help one family, I’ve done the job I’ve set out to do, I’ve done the job my brother would have wanted me to do.

My brother was, is, the funniest, most outgoing, full of life guy that I know. He found humor in the worst of moments, and always dragged me into that laughter. He’s the type of person you could look to and know that everything would be okay.

My brother was an addict. With years of fighting the same battle, cycling through the same path: recovery, determination, relapse, rock bottom, repeat. I don’t speak on the bad much...why? Because that’s not how anyone should be remembered, and that’s not how I choose to remember. My brother was known for his kind heart, his generosity, his willingness to give all that he had...his addiction didn’t, and never will, define him.

BUT, his addiction did claim him. It took him away, without notice, without so much as a goodbye. I cannot change this. I cannot repair the damage that has been done. But what I can do, is exactly what he’d want me to do...speak on it...to stop even just one person from walking down that path of feeling like recovery is not worth it, of feeling like recovery is not an option, of feeling like recovery is not obtainable.

Recovery, it is so worth it. What my brother didn’t know, that I know he sees now looking down, is that he had an entire army of people believing in him. He had love stretched from one end of that funeral home to the other. He had so so much potential that unfortunately will never see the light. If he knew then the support he had, maybe just maybe he’d still be sitting beside me. If he knew then, maybe just maybe he’d be here to celebrate a birthday with me, to watch his nephew grow up, to enjoy what life truly has to offer with recovery.

My message here is for those that are struggling; for the addicts, for the family and friends of those addicted....TALK. Be a friend, be a parent, be a brother or a sister. Ask for help, lean on your support system. Not a single person is expected to push through life alone. Not a single person should lose a battle with addiction because they didn’t feel like there was an out. Not a single family should have to struggle with losing someone to this battle.

You are not too good to ask for help. You are not so alone to not receive help. ASK. And if you are asked for help, listen – lend a hand – save a life.

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Christopher Edward Coll

Age 32
Loving, caring, sensitive, loyal friend and independent
Christopher Coll
Age 32
32

Christopher was a loyal friend, very caring, loved children, loved his guitar, loved the outdoors, was a good athlete and very intelligent. He struggled for 17 years with his drug addiction. He is truly missed and as his mother, I struggle everyday with his loss.

Miss him terribly and love him forever,
Jackie

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Raymond Petro

Age 36
Smart, Witty, Intelligent,
Raymond Petro
Age 36
36

Ray is my brother. I say the word “is” because even though he is no longer here he will always be my brother. There is no past tense when I reference him as my brother. Ray was a master electrician. He was the light of our lives. His laugh was contagious and stupid at the same time. He could fix anything. He was a wonderful son and an even better brother who would protect his family to no end. Ray has missed out on many things since his passing, all of which he would be very sad about. He has missed the college graduation of our younger brother, the marriage of our sister and the upcoming birth of her child. He has missed out on my two daughters being born. Ray was an old soul who loved Ozzy Osbourne. He enjoyed reciting movie lines with me as we would laugh about our favorites together.
In December 2014, Ray’s life was cut short when he overdosed on a mixture of Xanax and Fentanyl. Ray was better than his addiction. He was clean for 18 months. He relapsed and that is when God decided that it was time to take Ray home so he wouldn’t have to go through this anymore. We miss Ray every minute of the day and there is. It a minute that goes by that we don’t think of him. He is sorely missed! Our hearts are forever broken.

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Hera Selva-Jones

Age 57
Mother, Sister, Passionate, Loving, Eclectic
Hera Selva-Jones
Age 57
57

Hera was one of the most thoughtful and caring individuals you could meet. She had a heart of gold and a personality that just made being around her so much fun. She would start dancing when a song she loved came on and didn’t care what anyone thought. To know her when she was sober was like having an additional person in your family. She would help you find a job you could be passionate about, encourage you to go back to school, and offer a temporary place to stay until you got on your feet. She was passionate about helping others and touched many peoples’ lives. She thrived in the Millville Housing Authority because she was able to help families and help the city she lived in.

Hera loved to learn about Native American culture and wanted to go back to school for archaeology. She was passionate about politics and wanted to help educate others on her views. She was always reading and educating herself. We have heard so many stories about how she could hold a conversation with anyone about anything. Even if she disagreed with viewpoints she would let people know their views were heard without judgement.

Hera was the best version of herself when sober, but her addiction robbed her of many things in her life including relationships with her family and many close friends. In her absence, we hope that those who are struggling with addiction will hear her story and use it as a possible instrument of strength to help themselves and reconnect with their families. We hope you will consider donating to Shatterproof, a nonprofit trying to help educate people about addiction and break the stigma that surrounds the disease. Hera for many years tried to make a difference in people's lives and by donating in her name she still can.

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André Druvan

Age
Intelligent, warm, funny, irreplaceable
André Druvan
Age

I have long lived with a fear that all families of people with substance use disorder feel. I have played out the scenario in my mind countless times before and felt the piercing pain in my heart but nothing could prepare me for actually losing my little brother, André, to a heroin overdose in February this year.

It was not the first time that our family and my brother’s friends had banded together to look for him, so it did not immediately click when my parents showed up on my doorstep unannounced late in the evening that it happened. My heart sank when I saw their faces, swollen from crying. We fell into a long embrace in the hallway, the door still open. Screaming, crying. They had not yet said a word, but I knew. I looked at my father. “An overdose,” he said. “Alone, in his apartment.” The thought of my little brother, my first friend, dying alone sent me into hysteria.

Weeks after his death I had a dream about him where he had been living on the street. As he walked toward me I could tell that he had not showered in a very long time. It was the first time I recall being able to smell in a dream. His layered clothes were worn, gray, and there were holes in his sleeves. I smiled at him as he sat down next to me. When I woke up, I contemplated the dream. With his athletic build, well-paid job and nice home, my brother did not fit with the idea I had of “an addict”. He had many friends and an active lifestyle. He liked to play golf, badminton and ride his Harley Davidson. In light of what I now know, the widespread misconception about what substance use disorder looks like allowed the severity of his substance use to pass unnoticed by me for far too long.

The United States Department of Health and Human Services considers the abuse of opioids to be a chronic brain disease. Like diabetes, cancer and heart disease, addiction is caused by a combination of behavioral, environmental and biological factors. Genetic risk accounts for 40-60% of the likelihood that an individual will develop addiction, but substance use disorder does not elicit the same empathy as other illnesses. People with substance use disorder continue to be blamed for their disease. As a result of internalizing this stigma, 9/10 Americans that need treatment do not seek help. Stigma is literally deadly. Judgement is lethal.

Many people do not know that substance use disorder can be effectively treated. There is well-supported scientific research on prevention, treatment and recovery methods that could have saved André’s life - and countless like him. Tragically, less than half of the treatment facilities in the US offer evidence-based care. This needs to change.

Bright sides become different after someone you love dies. Today I can tell André’s story and remind people that behind his struggles there was an intelligent, warm, funny and irreplaceable human being that is not defined by the way he died. Words can not describe how much I miss him and how incredibly proud I am of him. His fate brought me to a place of self-reflection and change. In his loving memory I commit to spread love, tolerance and compassion and help dismantle the judgement placed on the vulnerable in our society that need us the most.

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Dustin Eugene Oglesby

Age 0
He was a beautiful presence
Dustin Oglesby
Age 0
0

My son Dustin graduated from Hobart High School in the year 2000. He left behind seven siblings grandparents and me his mother. I had never heard of the the drug Fentanyl in my life! I loved my son dearly but instead of saying I" love you" that night I told him to "wear his seatbelt". It was around 3:15 a.m. when I heard a knock at my door I remember that because when I heard the knock I ran into the kitchen to hide and I looked at the microwave I knew something was wrong but I never could have imagined hearing from his dad Dustin is dead! My son lay less than 500 ft from his father's home in a basement floor while his cousins scrambled around him no one calling 911.! It was family on his father's side I had no idea but Dustin was injected for the first time on September 6th 2000 one more time in between that and the morning of his death he had been given to injections! The legal battle lasted 5 years! I knew it wouldn't bring him back but I wanted the person responsible for putting that needle in his arm to admit what she had done so I fought and kept fighting I didn't care if she had spent one day or 10 years in prison I just needed her I knew it wouldn't bring him back but I wanted the person responsible for putting a needle in his arm to admit what she had done so I fought and kept fighting I didn't care if she spent one day or 10 years in prison I just needed her to say "I did this" ! There were so many people around him that night and they were all his family we miss him every single day. We love you Dustin! Until we meet again!

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Christopher Florio

Age 42
Husband & Father Biggest heart EVER
Christopher  Florio
Age 42
42

My husband was the most loving caring man you could ever ask for. He had the most giving heart, he would lend a helping hand to anyone that needed it. He struggled for many years fighting his demons as he called it. He lost his fight 8/23/19, I found him, that day changed my life forever.

Christopher was also the best daddy to our daughter Izzy, she was only 2 years old when he passed. I’m making it my life mission to make sure she remembers her daddy, honestly she is the only thing that has kept me going since his passing, I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I truly believe Christopher is watching over my daughter and I and guiding us through this storm 💜💜💜

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Alex Clarke

Age 25
smart, athletic, wickedly funny, sensitive
Alex Clarke
Age 25
25

Ours was a “good family,” like the ones we so often see on social media. Alex had everything going for him. He was smart, athletic, wickedly funny, and yet sensitive. He grew up as the only child of two college professors in a small New Jersey town south of New York City. He attended a small private school from 1st to 12th grade, where he thrived.

Everyone loved Alex, and he had many close friends. He played Little League and tournament baseball, and in high school excelled in varsity baseball. Along the way, he earned a black belt in karate and excelled in skate boarding, creating several skate videos of himself and his friends.

He went on to graduate from college, with a major in biology and a minor in computer science.

But addiction came for him, as it does for many young people from good families just like Alex. Many good families suffer through the loss of their loved ones, just as we do. Alcohol and drugs allowed Alex to self-medicate his anxiety and panic attacks from a very young age. At 12, he almost died from an eating disorder, and spent months in the hospital undergoing behavioral therapy. He started to drink heavily after his hospitalization as a way of self-medicating, to soothe his anxieties and enhance his self-esteem. He told his therapist that his daily life was torture.

While keeping the anxiety under control through college, he was unable to move forward once he graduated. As he and we struggled to find support for his addiction, I learned that our story is one of constantly moving pieces in a set of bankrupt systems--a broken treatment process, big-pharma-fueled prescription drug use, lack of insurance parity between mental and physical health, punitive criminal justice policies, and the lack of political will to address systems that are clearly failing. The federal government has provided little leadership. While the Obama administration implemented some important policy initiatives, most of these have languished or been rescinded during the Trump administration. Indeed, the current federal approach supports the incarceration of those with substance abuse and mental disorders in jails and prisons, and adamantly refuses to consider harm-reduction initiatives already existing in other countries and some U.S. states. We need to move beyond the personal choice approaches that undergird our current treatment system, the punitive policies of our criminal justice system, and extant public policy. The stories here--the stories of families who have lost loved ones--are an important step in that direction of revitalizing our approaches to the opioid epidemic.

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Lynette Blodgett

Age 34
Sister, Auntie, Mother, Daughter, Comedian
Lynette Blodgett
Age 34
34

Lynette is one of the funniest, outgoing woman you'd ever meet. Just as beautiful on the inside; as the outside. She is my sister. Growing up was not the easiest. There were 5 of us.

Lynette started started out smoking pot and cigarettes around the age of 12. Her first suicide attempt, was at the young age of 14, to which she took an obscene amount of pills. I remember her coming home around the age of 15, drunk- throwing up and had done cocaine for the first time. Naturally, taking on the "mother role", I took care of her. Different drugs occurred during the years... she was married by the age of 20 to a man who helped her get hooked on heroin. She ended up landing in prison for charges of larceny trying to pay for her habit. After she got out, she was clean, healthy, and happy. She then remarried, got her degree in substance abuse counseling, had 3 beautiful children, a loving husband, and a wonderful home. Some where along the road years later, she found her self "lost" again. Another suicide attempt with pills was made. She lost custody of her children and started drinking. Lynette would wake up in the morning's in withdrawals due to the extreme consumptions.

She then placed herself back in treatment. The fight she had in her following that was truly amazing! Back to work, seeing her children again, actively involved in meetings and most of all she was sober. Lynette was involved with family and friends. We laughed until our stomachs hurt during get togethers.
Her sense of humor was like no other... if you were crying, she totally said something inappropriate to make you laugh your ass off. She was a great cook to top it all off.
Everytime she came over, I handed her comb and asked her to braid my hair. I don't know how, but the hairstyles she did were salon worthy. She made blankets from hand, painted immaculate pictures, loved music.

She found herself with a man in her life. A man that knew the struggles, as he'd been through them himself. He would eventually become addicted despite his lengthy sobriety.

August 6, 2019 Is a night I'll never forget. A night that impacted everyone that knew her. She was pronounced dead. Accidental overdose- cocaine, fetanyl and alcohol.
I think the worst part about it is no matter what she was going through, her hear was pure. If you needed someone to talk to at 2am she was there without hesitation. I only wish she knew the favor would always be returned.
I'll never get to sing at the top of my lungs in the car with, eat one of her meals, laugh uncontrollably with her, or have anymore pictures taken for memories.

All I have is my own memories- and a sister I can no longer hug.

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Zachary Brown

Age 25
Father, son, brother, husband, heart of pure gold.
Zachary Brown
Age 25
25

Zachary was my youngest (or baby ..) brother. I was lucky enough to be the only girl and the oldest in the family. Luckily my middle brother Alex and I have drawn on eachother to always remember and love Zach, RIP. My parents are amazing rocks for us both and we try to get through each day as a family. Zach was kind, smart, hard working, loving and a father to an amazing son who was 2 yr old when he passed away. Zach struggled on and off with addiction but it didn’t define him. I miss seeing his goofy smile and our “family vacations” being full. I will always advocate and educate drug overdose in his name and honor. I love and miss you so much Zach!!

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Teressa E Kropp

Age 51
Mother, sister, daughter
Teressa Kropp
Age 51
51

I would like to thank everyone for coming today….As much as it sucks being here I am eternally grateful for everyone that is here to celebrate my mom for who she was.

It’s no secret that my mother wasn’t a perfect person. She had her demons and her faults. She had her lies and her secrets...but it wasn’t her. It never was. It was a thing that had come into her life and stole her from me long before I was ever born. And unfortunately it’s what brings us all here today.

They say when a loved one dies...you feel this overwhelming grief and sadness. You do things differently, you act different...you ARE different. And it’s true, because something that was such a constant in your life is now gone. You can’t just pick up a phone and call them or skype them or go down the street and go see them. Instead you visit a grave, a memorial...an urn, and you mourn them. You talk to them and about them but it’s not the same.

I loved my mom.I loved the mom that baked cookies with me on the weekends we had together, or would paint my new furniture with me that I kept at her house. The mom that threw a hawaiin themed surprise party for me and decided it was a good idea to host four crazy teenage girls for halloween. But that mom wasn’t able to stay...as much as she tried and I know she did.

Addiction is a TERRIBLE thing. And for 27 years I was by my mom as she struggled with it. I took care of her, lied for her and tried to protect her. Because as much as I hated what she was doing she was still my mom and I loved her. I had always hoped that she would come back to me. She would come back and be who she was...what I always needed her to be.

I haven’t spoken to my mom for almost two years. I couldn’t do it anymore and as much as it pained me, I had hoped that it would give her a wake up call and bring her back to me. It did...just not in the way that I had wanted.

When two people are connected, soulmates, parents and children, or even best friends...there is this string that is run between them. You know that no matter what is going on, if you pull it then they will be there. Right now..i’m pulling on this string and there’s nothing on the other end and I don’t know how to handle it.

This last week, I’ve been doing a good job at bottling my emotions up and locking them away. Bottling up the guilt and anger and resentment I have because I know that she wouldn’t want me to feel this way. She wouldn’t want me to be so angry with myself because I didn’t do more to help her... because I know that even though she couldn’t tell me, that she loved me and she knew I loved her.

So for now, I’m going to remember her for who she was. The woman who loved me even on her darkest days. The one who sang to me and supported me. The part of her who was truly and completely my mom. And everyone else here should do the same in knowing that she is finally free and happy and most importantly she’s home with her mom and dad who love her very, very much.

In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels. May we meet again.

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Brandon Sloey

Age 31
Father, son, brother, hilarious, kind
Brandon Sloey
Age 31
31

Brandon will always be the most hilarious person anyone ever met. His comedic timing was impeccable, as well as his ability to totally cross the line but in a lovable, endearing way. He was an amazing brother, father, son and friend until addiction stole him from us. He was embarrassed about his struggles which left him feeling alone and helpless. He did not willingly leave this world, but was rolling the dice when he scored a bag laced with fentanyl. We miss him every day, but hope our families pain will help anyone else feeling alone. You aren’t. You are loved always.

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TREVOR BRYER

Age 24
Son | Brother | Best Friend
TREVOR BRYER
Age 24
24

Like the Fourth of July, Trevor entered this world with a spark. Trevor had charisma...he knew how to talk to anyone, and people knew when he walked into a room (partially because he was a big guy and probably 10ft tall,) but he had an energy to him. You'd always find him talking about his next endeavor with such gusto that you, too felt hyped up. Trevor also loved cooking, and to be honest, he was really good at it.

Despite these passions, we lost Trevor at 24. So very, very, young - too young. The majority of his youth, Trevor struggled with different addictions, and life was very hard. The last ten years culminated challenges that we wish upon no family. Addiction is no joke. With the endless support of family and friends, Trevor overcame so many battles of his addiction, but unfortunately lost the war. We are so grateful for the love and support that was shed upon Trevor for his 24 years.

Trevor was and is so loved, as he will be eternally.

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Joseph William Pori

Age 27
Kind, funny, talented, smart, loving
Joseph Pori
Age 27
27

It was very difficult to find a recent picture of Joe where he was not high. He struggled with addiction for more than 10 years. He was in Drug Court and on probation, clean and sober when the Covid-19 hit. Courts were closed, there were no meetings and no counseling sessions. What would an addict do? Best I could tell, he had not been using his drug of choice during that time due to the threat of eviction from my home, but he was using. He was using Kratom and then Tiana. So far I don't have the tox reports back yet, but that day, June 2, he bought 7 Xanax bars. I know because I was able to get into his Facebook and saw the whole thing go down. Needless to say, the outcome is the same.

Joe is dead.

There was a super cool guy underneath all of his pain. He and I shared a real sarcastic sense of humor. We loved to watch movies together, especially Star Wars and comedy movies. He had so many friends that loved him. None of us could love him clean or happy.

A close friend of mine lost her son to fentanyl a couple of years back and she was the person I reached for. No one can know but another mother. No mother should ever know. She invited me to a support group on Facebook with more than 4000 members worldwide who have lost sons and daughters to a drug overdose. NOT ONE MORE! Please join us on Overdose Awareness Day, August 31, and urge your local and state representative to fly flags at half staff. Drug addicts lives matter.

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Wyatt Celaya

Age 24
Smart, Kind, Creative, Helpful, Handsome
Wyatt Celaya
Age 24
24

Wyatt struggled with his addiction for about 10 years. I tried so hard to help him get better. He had overdosed twice before this. Those times thankfully, I found him in time and he was saved and rushed to the hospital. He went into four different rehab centers in three years. This last time when he came home, he was different. He wasn't his usual happy, healthy self. He was seeing a psychiatrist who had prescribed him some medications to deal with depression. Those medications took his spark away. He passed away just three weeks ago from using Fentanyl. I had been at work. I came home and found him on the floor in his room. No matter how much CPR I did and how much the first-responders worked on him, it was too late this time. And my heart is broken. He was such an amazing person. He was so smart, so kind, and caring and I'll always remember him that way. Not with the disease. I miss him so much. I used to get "Good morning Madre!" texts from him every morning. I miss those texts. I wish I could hug him one last time and tell him how genuinely loved he is. I wasn't ready for him to be gone. I know no one ever really is ready to lose a loved one. He struggled with more than just the addiction, he had depression and anxiety. And now I pray that he is truly at peace and watching over us.

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Frederick Scott Hoback

Age 29
Funny, smart, and soft hearted
Frederick  Hoback
Age 29
29

My son was wonderful, funny and smart. He loved his family and his son was his life. He had a drug addiction that he just couldn't get away from. He tried more than once to beat it but it finally took him away from us.

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Taylor G Lowery

Age 27
Son, brother, friend
Taylor Lowery
Age 27
27

Taylor was smart, funny, athletic, handsome, and an addict. Like many other people, he became addicted to opioids when they were prescribed for pain after surgery in 9th grade. He eventually moved from opioids to heroin. Taylor told us that his first thought in the morning was about drugs, and the cravings never let up. He even dreamed about it. Taylor struggled for over a decade - half of his short life.

Despite inpatient and outpatient treatments, drug rehab, detox, psychiatrists, psychologists, counselors, sponsors, mental health services, sober living homes, methadone, NA, and AA, he could not stay clean and sober for long. His addiction led to crime, arrests, and homelessness. He overdosed and recovered, and watched others overdose and die.

But it was not an overdose that caused his death. Taylor’s addiction also led him to steal money, jewelry, electronics, tools; anything that he could pawn for money to support his habit. It also led to his death. He was shot by a man who came home and found Taylor inside his house.

Taylor also had family – a mom, dad, stepdad, two brothers, a sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, grand-parents, friends, and even a family dog who loved and supported him. We are shattered.

His death was violent. It means one more person – the man who shot him – is now part of the tragedy. Our hope is that Taylor is finally at peace. I am not sure that the rest of us will find it for a long time.

RIP my beautiful boy. Sweet child of mine.

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Larry T

Age 49
Dad
Larry T
Age 49
49

My dad who I miss and think of every single day. He struggled with addiction for a long time, and unfortunately those demons took his life. I would give anything to talk to and see him one more time. I try to think of the good memories, but I also think about all the things he’s missed, especially his grandkids that I know he would have just loved. I know he is watching over us though. 🖤

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Kevin Anthony Tedesco

Age 32
Brother, Friend, God, Son, Hilarious
Kevin  Tedesco
Age 32
32

My brother Kevin was loved by everyone. He was the best brother anybody could ever have. When he was younger he was in a bad skiing accident, the left ski never came off and it just ripped apart the left side of his body. He almost died. He was 16 when this happened but later down the road complications from the accident would have him addicted to painkillers. He was in pain every single day of his life and he could not take it. No doctors would help so he resorted to heroin. It was the only thing that helped with his pain. He was 34 years old when he died from an overdose of fentanyl in his system.

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