Reach out to those who struggle with addictions

A call that you never want to receive is that a relative has passed away. On Feb. 11, shortly after 10 p.m., that call came. The detective said to us that our son was found dead.

Our son was a good man and well loved. Our son had his demons. He died from a heroin overdose. He suffered from a disease that isn't pretty. There are no walks or telethons for drug addiction or alcoholism, but these diseases are deadly and all around us.

We choose to look the other way because to confront them shakes us to our foundations and forces us to look at things that don't make us smile but bring us pain. These diseases my son had, and they took his life. From the outside he looked like a totally normal 24-year-old man. But one day the pain in his heart became worse than the pain from the poison that he injected into his veins and so his life ended. A tragedy of unfathomable proportions for those of us who remain and suffer from the aftermath of that decision.

No parent should have to bury their child. The pain is indescribable. It never leaves. Sleep doesn't make it go away. Sleep only provides a break that is temporary. The thought of those last moments eat at you like a cancer. What did he feel? What did he think? Did he think of his family, his friends, his life's future? Or was he only looking for relief of the torment inside his head and some way to quiet the voices.

Death isn't like in the movies. As my son injected the poison into his arm, his heart started to slow along with his breathing. His body tried to save itself by correcting the effects the drug was creating. But the longer the drug was in his body the more futile the struggle became. His skin turned blue and became cold as his body was willing to sacrifice everything to save his vital organs. Slowly he took his last breath and his heart took its last beat. Never to love or laugh, no more sunsets or sunrises, no more family dinners or trips, only a sleep that lasts forever.

As a physician, I have had to tell families that their child or newborn has died. I have never gotten over the look in their faces as those words are said. I look into the mirror now, and I see that look of disbelief in my own reflection and see it in the face of my wife and family. It seems like a bad joke or nightmare that will end soon, but that time never comes.

We mechanically pick up the pieces of his life. We clean up his house and stare at the place were he took his last breath. We pack his clothes and belongings and with the help of his friends attend to his last affairs. His friends all cry and hugs are shared all around. This is a catharsis for us to share pain, and this makes the pain lessened -- or so I tell myself, but I am not sure because my heart is still broken. There is no feeling except waves of sadness. Tears flow like a river with no end, and so ends another day.

Life is a temporary proposition. Love your children for they are your legacy to the world. Your job, career, accomplishments mean little but after death they are gone. Even the frustration of bad behavior is better than this. Tell them you love them every day and kiss them good-night for you never know what the future brings. It might be the last time you can, and you can never go back and relive those lost moments. Pray for their health and forgive them and yourself for your and their failings.

My son is at peace. May God rest his soul, and may his demons be cast out so he can finally have the happiness he so deserves. Don't feel sorry for me, but feel sorrow for the ones still afflicted with alcoholism and drug addiction. They deserve help. These people aren't scum, but living human beings who can change. Please love and help them and leave their judgment to God.

Eric G. Morton is a physician who resides in Cape Girardeau.