It Was Too Late

How could I have missed so much? Were the signs not there, it’s too late, he’s gone. What could I have done? How could I have been so blind and not see it? Drug use is all over the media, hitting headlines almost every day. Why was I not able to pick up on it? I feel so ashamed; he was such a bright and beautiful person with so much potential.nnGrowing up as a young boy he would come rushing outside to see me as I came home from work; such a glow in his face, so happy, and so full of life. He could knock you off your feet if you weren’t looking. The years went on, his eyes became darker; the happiness was fading, and he grew into a man. He had everything, a loving family, great opportunity, and came from a good home. How could I be so blind? He was asking for money all the time and his personal items were going missing or all of sudden becoming stolen. He was only 21 years old; a young man with so much potential, and now he’s gone.nnMy wife would always point out odd things happening. Why did I not listen? Could I not admit my son had a drug problem, or was I afraid of what was going to happen? I wanted to tell him to come home that night, I wanted to say so much to him, tell him…I love him. He was such a good boy. He had so many dreams and he wanted to do so much.nnIt was a Sunday morning; a rainy and dreary day. I knew something was off when I got up that morning, something just did not feel right. Around 10am, shortly after I finished eating breakfast the house phone rang; he was on the other line. For some reason before he spoke I sarcastically asked him, “How much money do you need this time?” There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Good morning to you too,” he says. “My wallet was stolen with my rent money in it.” I wanted to believe him; I wanted to reassure him I could help him, yet on that morning I could not. “Sorry son, file a report with the police, I can’t pay your rent this month.” Yet another moment of silence, enough time for me to feel guilty about what I said. He soon replied, “Ok, I’ll talk to you later today.” Not what I expected. He never pushed me, got angry, yelled, or screamed at me. There was nothing. He hung up the phone, and I was left standing there staring at a childhood picture I just happened to pick up as he called; meanwhile, a very strong and sinking feeling was coming over me. I went about my day trying not to pay attention to what I had just felt. As four o’clock came around, the phone rang again; he was on the other line. He wanted to reassure me he had found his wallet and the rent money was still in it. Although, when he spoke I heard something different in his voice, it now makes sense to me. He sounded so helpless, desperate, and almost dead inside. It sounded like he was expecting me not to believe his story and tell him everything will be all right. Before I could put thoughts into words, he told me he might stop by later that night and then he hung up the phone. This overwhelming feeling of fear and panic washed over me, nothing like I have felt before. I was screaming at my self inside, why did you not tell him to come home, tell him you love him, and tell him you’re here for him. Funny enough, that same picture I held before was still lying next to the phone.nnTurns out within the police report, he had been involved with some known dealers in the area and was making drop offs for them for quite some time. Most likely to keep up to his addiction, make some money, I don’t know. The police found over $1500 cash on him, drugs, paraphernalia, and a small knife. The police told me his body was found in a washroom at a local gas station, the same gas station two blocks away from my house. The gas attendant working at that time reported a man fitting my son’s description using the payphone outside around 4pm that evening. Soon after he hung up, he came into the store and got the key for the bathroom outside. Apparently at 4:30pm there was a shift change at this gas station, and nothing was mentioned about someone being in the bathroom outside. I got a phone call three hours later; police said it looked like drug overdose. Sure enough, according with the autopsy report he had extremely large quantities of opiates in his system. Just before he died he used some of the drugs he had on him, which he picked up earlier that day. Apparently it was purer stuff, or something like that, I’m not too sure. The report stated the cause of death was heart failure due to drug overdose. My son was 21 years old; he died in a gas station bathroom addicted to drugs in March of 2004 and I laid him to rest that same month. His memories live with me as a young boy running towards me every day as I came home from work; glowing, cheerful, smiling, happy, and living life. These are the memories I cherish, and carry with me always.nnEven though this is a story, its idea is based on true events and the message is clear. Drug addiction is a serious problem, and we want everyone to hear the message; parents, families and friends, anyone who is listening. It does not have to come to this point, nor does it have to go so far that everything is lost and completely out of control. No matter what problems are going on and whatever is taking place, something can be done about it and help is always available.nnContact Narconon Trois-Rivieres right away for help. 1-877-782-7409nnVisit www.narconon.ca for more informationnn© 2009 Narconon Trois-Rivières. All Rights Reserved.nnNARCONON is a trademark and service mark owned by Association for Better Living and Education and is used with its permission.