Remembering Jessica

I remember being so excited when my daughter Jessica earned a scholarship to William Jewell College. She majored in theater and political science and had an impressive GPA.

Then she decided to transfer to a large state university during the middle of her sophomore year to be near her boyfriend. She admitted to me that she occasionally used heroin. I was horrified and scared.

I called her father, talked to therapists, and specialists in drug rehabilitation. I learned that unless Jessica was willing to admit she had a problem, there wasn't much we could do. It wasn't long before she had track marks down her arms. She even stole my car and drove to St. Louis to buy heroin. Her friends found her and took her to the hospital. She’d almost overdosed.

Jessica did a stint in rehab. After she got out, she went back to William Jewell and started using again. She was now seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist specializing in addiction. She was prescribed Suboxone, a medication taken daily that counteracts the effects of opiates. She also started carrying Narcan and told me that it was in the lining of her purse so if I found her unresponsive I could save her life.

In December 2015, I saw track marks on her neck. I begged and cried for her to stop. Jessica went back to rehab in January 2016. She went to live with her father and was to attend 30 Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings in 30 days

One morning a few weeks later, her father noticed that Jessica was still in her room at 11 AM. He knocked on the door but she did not answer. He opened the door and found her in a sitting position on the bed, her head tilted over on the pillow and a syringe by her arm. She was cold, stiff, and unresponsive.

She was gone.

I was notified about Jessica’s overdose while I was teaching. My principal pulled me out of my classroom and walked me to the conference room. I knew I didn't want to go in there.

When I walked in, my mother, my cousin, the school district’s director of Human Resources, and the principal's secretary were all standing there with tears in their eyes. I knew right then and there that had I lost my precious baby girl. Never again would I feel my daughter’s wonderful arms wrapped around me as she told me how much she loved me.

That day, I felt like I died too.

Now, more than a year later, I am still trying to accept that my life will go on without her and be very different than what I expected. Addiction is very difficult, and I wish with all my heart that Jessica hadn’t died from this disease, but I thank God for giving me 22 years to spend with this amazing person.

This past June, the Shatterproof 5K in Kansas City at Arrowhead Stadium was the first large gathering I’d been to where I had the opportunity to celebrate my beautiful daughter’s life and others lost to addiction. But I also had the chance to support and encourage those who continue to overcome addiction. It brought peace to me and so many who attended and I will never forget it.

That day I got the chance to walk in Jessica’s memory. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her, think about her, or laugh at how funny she was.

Jess, we will meet again, my dear. I love you.

Originally published in 2017.