One of my relatives died recently of a drug overdose.
They found her behind the locked door of the room she was living in at a women’s home in downtown Cincinnati.
She hadn’t been answering calls all day so one of the counselors unlocked her door.
She was a young woman in her late twenties.
Her mother and father loved her.
Her brothers and sisters loved her.
There she was, dead, half-naked on the floor.
My daughter loved her and struggles with the same demons that killed our cousin. The two of them are near the same age and played together as children growing up.
Sometimes they struggled together.
Sometimes they used together.
Sometimes they laughed together.
Sometimes they cried.
My daughter is left with the grief and guilt of feeling like she was part of the problem.
Of course she was.
More to the point, we all are the longer we go on ignoring this epidemic or, at the very least, pretending it’s not the problem it is.
It is destroying our youth.
It is tearing the fabric of our society.
It is a disease infecting us all; insidiously weaving its way through our society’s consciousness.
If you want to see evil’s soul, look into the eyes of a heroin addict.
The person is gone and the devil stares back at you.
My daughter is bereft.
I hold my breath waiting to see if this event might kill her, too.
I’m always holding my breath.