Bradley County Stories

Lynn

September 11th is a day known for disaster. In 2018, it was a day that was my own personal disaster—a day that will haunt me forever. The day my 30 year old son died after committing suicide. He had been a victim of drug addiction for 14 hard and long years.

It all began in high school when he got his driver’s license and the freedom of having his own car. With that freedom came many problems that he could never escape. First it began with marijuana and drinking, then opioids, cocaine and much later the worst of all the drugs Meth.

Taylor graduated from a faith-based program for adults on June 13, 2017. One activity they did while in treatment was to write a letter to themselves about their future. This was his letter to himself:

“Dear Taylor,

You need to listen to the advice I am giving you right now and stop doing the things you are doing. Especially the cocaine and opioids. If you don’t, that car you love so much is going to go bye, bye. I know you think it is all fun and games right now, but the drugs are going to lead you down a path that you do not want to go down. I have done some things and witnessed things that I never thought I would see when I was your age. I have dealt with a lot of pain and heartache because of the choices I have made and the problems that have come along with the alcohol. Please listen to me and change your ways. I know you are hard headed but take this advice for once in your life. I am you. I know your past, present and your future. You could never get advice from anybody like me. You need to focus on school and stop skipping. Stop hanging out with people who put you down. People who put you down in front of others are NOT your friend. People like that do not care about you or your feelings. They do not have your best interests in their hearts. REMOVE yourself from them and do what you know is right. Get back to the Taylor that you used to be. Please take this note seriously and do as I say. Do it for our own well-being and for our future.

-Taylor” 

Wendy 

Simply put, my mother was many things. She was a nurse, a friend, a B-maw and an opioid addict. She died from complications of an overdose. She missed my graduation with my Master’s Degree and her grandchildren’s graduations. When she died, her funeral was mostly the friends of her children and co-workers. The drugs had isolated her so much her funeral was less about celebrating her and more about the effects of addiction. I miss her every day. I miss her humor. Her laughter. Her love. I’m starting to forget things. The way her laughter sounded. The color of her eyes. The way her hands looked. The drugs took her from me. By degrees when she was alive and now they’re still taking from me. Her memories ebb more every day and become more shadow-like than solid. Opiates took her from me.