The National Addiction Memorial honors the loved ones we’ve lost.

Macauly was the youngest of four brothers. He started his struggle with addiction at 16 because one of his friends said "heroin is no big deal". Drugs have a way of capturing those who suffer inadequacies, low self-esteem and social anxiety brought on by trauma, however subtle, in school and at home. Macauly was the most loving baby and child until around grade school when he started being depressed and angry. He just wanted to be accepted for himself, fit in and have classmates and friends like him. He was put in therapy and we focused on his happiness but nothing seemed to work for him. Macauly was smart, creative, musical, stubborn, quiet with a sharp wit. He loved non-fiction books, documentaries, video games, and animals, especially his cat, Rajah Cheesesteak. He amazed us with his math skills and solving a Rubik's Cube faster than anyone, and his ability to play piano and guitar without lessons or reading music. He loved music. It was his life. From oldies to hip hop, especially hip hop. He created beats and rap music. He DJ'd professionally and for his mother in her car on road trips. He knew a lot and a little about everything. Religion, US and world politics, geography, history, nature, current events. He wanted to be a math teacher, an accountant, or work in the music industry. He would have made a difference. Although socially awkward around a lot of strangers, Mack was funny and fun around family and friends. He had a great smile and laugh. He loved his friends and family and would do anything for anyone. He had great empathy for everyone; mostly because he knew what it was like to be down and misunderstood. He struggled with addiction, but really his whole family struggled with him. He knew we all loved him. We were always there for him. It was not enough. Macauly wanted to be reincarnated as a praying mantis. The night we got the call that he died, we were out of the country in Grenada. While trying to sleep, a praying mantis landed on my hand and kept coming at me until I had to jump out of bed to get away. For his first birthday without him, eight of our family members went together and got praying mantis tattoos in his memory. The world is calmer but dimmer without him.

Macauly Memorial on YouTube

Graham was the most caring person. He would do anything to help out. He was funny, too. Always came back with a quick saying. Graham was lost and didn't know how he got in this world. He turned to drugs and alcohol to ease his pain. Drugs won the battle.

We had to say goodbye to our sweet brother, Benjamin Wilkey, on Monday night. This is incredibly tragic and painful for our family, and it has left us all feeling empty and lost. Ben was just 27 years old. He loved his family, he was one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, and he was full of life. Addiction does not discriminate against age, race, gender or social class. It is killing our children and young people and ripping families apart. I realize that most people would leave this part out, but I’m sick of ignoring it. I want to expose it for what it is. It’s nasty, and it kills, steals, and destroys the ones affected by it. Ben, we love you. You made an everlasting impact on those who knew you. You will never be forgotten and we will honor your memory forever. This YouTube video was 7 years ago when Ben had gotten clean of drugs and alcohol for a period time. He discusses his path to addiction and how he had then gotten clean. The local paper from our hometown of Columbus, Georgia interviewed him. It’s absolutely heartbreaking for me to watch it now, but shows the power addiction takes over a person’s life. Also, it’s just nice hearing my baby brother’s voice one last time. I’ve always been an advocate for addiction recovery because of my experiences with my brothers and husband. If you thought I talked about it a lot before, you can imagine how much I’ll be talking about it now. Now it’s claimed Ben’s life and left us with a void that can never be filled....like a leg kicked out from under a table, our family will never stand the same way again. He was irreplaceable. 💔

Best daddy in the world! Best partner in the world. Loved unconditionally.

I am so overwhelmed by this loss, I don't even know where to begin. My heart is broken, and my soul aches. A million memories play over and over in my mind. I smile when I think of my favorite cousin, I laugh at our many, many crazy shenanigans, and I cry so hard because I know there will be no more. This is a pain I could never fathom. I'm so very, very angry. I truly loved my cousin so much. I can only hope that she knew.
Nicole was such a beautiful, vibrant soul. She had a really big heart, and absolutely loved all the kids in her life. She was a big kid. She was fun, silly, loving, and so brave. Everything she had endured throughout her life only made her stronger. She, like myself, was the outcast. The black sheep. I remember being about 12 years old, hanging out in her room in the basement. We were watching How High, smoking Newports, and drinking this awful concoction we blended with vodka that we looted from her nana's liquor cabinet. She was a couple years older than me, so I looked up to her. I remember this was shortly after the death of Tupac, and she still cried. My love of hip-hop is because of her. She introduced me to the greats; Tupac, Biggie, DMX, the Lox, Wu Tang, among others. We were close. Always. No matter how much time passed, we never missed a beat when we were together. She was there for me. Through a lot of really bad times. When I needed a place to stay, she gave me a home. When I needed somebody to listen, she sat down with open ears. When I needed love, she gave it to me so freely. Many people only saw her for her mistakes, her shortcomings. They had no idea how magnificent her soul really was. Nothing she ever did was meant to hurt anyone. She did what she had to do to survive.
It hurts so bad that the last time we had a conversation we spoke about having dinner together, but we never did. That was September 18th, 2019. She reached out to me because of a Facebook post I made after going through something really tough. She was checking on me. She was caring for me, as she always has. That is the Nicole I want everyone to know. The Nicole I want everyone to remember.
I wish, more than anything, I had made more of an effort to spend time together. I regret so painfully that I didn't, because I didn't want to deal with any drama. I was afraid I would end up getting into trouble, because that is what we did. Now, I would give my right arm to get into trouble with her.
The last time I saw her, she was working at Family Dollar near my house. I stopped in for a few things, and she saw me. I was shopping and heard, "Supe?" I turned around, and there she was. I was her "Super". She gave me that nickname many years ago. I really feel like I let her down. I feel like I should've, could've done more. Maybe that's just the grief talking. No matter, I want my favorite cousin back. And the horrible nightmare of reality is, I will never get her back.
As long as I have known her, which is my whole life, she suffered. She was always trying to numb the pain. Eradicate the feelings she couldn't bear to feel. The losses she lived with were great. Yet, she was so bubbly and exuberant on the outside. I wish she would've shared her burdens with me. Allowed me to carry some of her pain. Her strength is something to be envied. She was a good person. A really amazing human being. I am so sorry she was all alone, and suffering.
I will miss her tremendously as long as I live. Not a day will go by that I won't be reminded of her, and desperately want her here.
Now, the truly awful part of her story, the path which led to her untimely death. I have to talk about it. It needs to be known. The very first time I know my cousin used opiates was in 2006. She acquired fentanyl pops. I'm sure it began prior to that, but that's the first I know of. She tended to be secretive, and didn't divulge how deep she was into something. I don't know if it was shame, or her attempt to protect me. After that, I know she also dabbled in other drugs. Cocaine, meth, pills, anything to escape her reality. In 2009 she really got herself together. She landed a really good job, was paying her rent and bills on time. Then, she was diagnosed with psuedotumor cerebri, a rare medical condition. She was hospitalized and started on dilaudid for pain. The gradual spiral into addiction happened immediately. See, addicts are fantastic liars, and actors. Even with legitimate medical conditions that cause significant pain, they gain such sympathy beyond what their pain demands. It is that euphoria derived from the very first milligram of painkiller that spirals completely out of control into complete opioid dependence.
Long story short, it wasn't long after that she lost her job, housing, family, etc. From that point on, she battled on and off with opioids. Shot heroin for awhile, popped pills. The last couple of years, I distanced myself. It pains me so bad to say that. I had to, to protect my children and myself. That's what this disease does. It alienates you from everyone who loves you, and everyone you love. It isolates you. It backs you into the darkest corner by yourself. You feel completely alone. You're so afraid to burden your family, you don't wanna disappoint anyone. Yet, it's absolutely impossible to face it on your own. That is exactly how it kills you. It thrives on desperation, and solitude. You avoid those who would never judge, nor abandon you, simply because it makes you believe they will. And for that, I will never forgive myself. I should've known better. I've faced addiction head on, alone, and triumphed. However, she's gone, and it doesn't matter what I should've or could've done, cuz she's defeated. Dead. A beautiful life lost.
For those of us left behind, it is not our fault. All we can do is love unconditionally. All we can do is be there. In the most loving memory of my dear cousin Nicole Marie, until I see you again.

Always, and Forever,
Super

I've stared at the screen for a couple of days, not knowing how to capture who Alex was with just my words, and I've come to the realization that it's because it is impossible to do so, but I will try my best. I'm still struggling to accept that this isn't a nightmare I'll wake up from. Alex touched the lives of every person he ever encountered. He was fearless, passionate, stubborn to a fault, and truly had the biggest heart. He was an inspiration to everyone who knew him. Alex's smile and laugh were contagious and he knew how to make any situation fun. Growing up I remember he was always immediately good at anything new he tried, from soccer to riding around and doing tricks on his scooter with his friends. He's my little brother but I always looked up to him. He grew up golfing and fishing with our dad and continued to be passionate about both as an adult. He wasn't only passionate about both fishing and golfing but he was damn good. We will all miss receiving pictures and videos of his fishing excursions. Alex truly gave the best bear hugs, the kind that would almost knock the wind out of you, and I think that's what I'll personally miss the most. Alex was the best uncle to our sister Brittney's daughter, Aria; he always wanted to buy her the most expensive gifts. He was so good with kids, and I know he wanted some of his own one day. He was so full of life and was always down for any sort of adventure.
Alex also had demons though, he struggled with the disease of addiction for years. Alex's disease never defined him but it was definitely a part of who he was. Alex and our mom had a special bond no one else could really understand, because they both struggled with the same disease. Alex turned his whole life around and was doing so extraordinarily well; he had bought himself a new car, moved into an apartment, was engaged to his middle school sweetheart, Casey, and was working in the union. Alex spoke of talking to and helping others who struggled with addiction. Alex's strength has inspired me to share his story, to spread awareness that addiction is just like any other disease and it should be treated that way. Alex's story has taught me that addiction is a lifelong battle. Although he has been doing so well for nearly four years, we now know for certain that he was still haunted by his demons.

Christopher was a very typical little boy growing up, always curious, always on the move, so much so that it was difficult for him to focus on tasks. I remember as far back as kindergarten he was so busy running about the classroom, he slipped and hit his head on the corner of an easel and had a huge gash in his forehead. He was supposed to be sitting and listening to story time with the rest of his class. So his first surgery was at 5 years old to mend his forehead. Christopher had so much energy he wore us out, but he was a typical little tyke.
I believe his ADD made most tasks requiring attention difficult for him. Throughout all his schooling every teacher said he was very gifted and smart, but needed to pay more attention and do the work. Homework was a chore but we kept at him. Every teacher liked Christopher for he was genuinely a good boy who couldn't be still. He was in perpetual motion.
He went to HS but rarely attended classes, choosing hanging outside of school with kids who did the same. He worked for his dad in a warehouse at 17 yrs old and had fallen off a hi-low, crushing his ankle. In my opinion it was then, post surgical, his addiction began on prescribed pain medications, opioids. As time went on we noticed a change in our son, his temperament, demeanor.
We addressed it head on, sent him to multiple rehabs over the course of 10 years, but he covered up and pretended to be recovered. Fast forward to today, our beloved son Christopher struggled and battled and tried to protect us from his demon. My sweet boy tried to have a normal life, but the stigma of addiction was an obstacle. I will never judge him for I did not walk in his shoes. Depression, despair, shame, failure all contributed to his death. Heroin laced with fentanyl took his life. RIP my angel Christopher. I love you and miss you so much. Forever 32.

Tiffany was a very kind, caring, compassionate, gentle soul. Smart, beautiful, loved to fish, plant flowers, and do crafts. Most importantly, Tiffany loved spending time with family. She had a smile for everyone. We all love her and miss her so very much. RIP my baby girl. Until we are together again.

This is a tribute I posted on social media for my son, on what would be his 27th birthday. It was intended to not only show who he was, but to inform my contacts what he went through, and the crisis we as a society are facing:

Today is Nick’s birthday. It’s been exactly 4 months since he died. The pain is still as fresh as ever. I suspect it will be that way for some time, but now also just a hammering buzz in the background of daily life.

Here is the reality: Nick died of a heroin overdose. Nick had fought and struggled for years. It was a fight that we all were fighting. Prior to his death, he had been clean (more on that). All he wanted was his life back. He was smart – he researched his disease. He was acutely aware that many considered what he was facing was a moral weakness, a character flaw, a lack of faith – the list goes on.
Close to 80,000 people died last year in the US from opioids (per the CDC).

80,000!

This nightmare began for him as a young 18-year old, suffering from intense social anxiety, awkward, alone, depressed – as so many teenagers are. He was prescribed medication – some sort of anti-anxiety med. The parents of 18-year olds do not have the right to know what meds are being prescribed. He was considered an adult.

After wisdom teeth surgery, he was prescribed with almost 6 weeks of Oxycontin, a drug developed for the excruciating pain cancer patients experience. For wisdom teeth!

His brain was re-wired. Hooked. Where to go from there? Well, the cartels are shrewd. Black market Oxy is expensive. They were able to provide a much cheaper (and deadlier) alternative. Their marketing was well organized. In Alaska, dealers followed the model of the many little coffee shacks there: A frequent user card. Buy 10 get one free. And then there are also no shortage of ‘dark-web’ sites which offer a full array of alternatives; ‘experimental research chemicals’, fentanyl, on and on. Quickly shipped to customers around the country in tiny Ziploc bags, wrapped in dryer-sheets, stuffed into shoes, or other goods. Discrete - easy to ship undetected. I know far more about this than I ever imagined. I never imagined this!

We did not realize immediately the extent of his problem but once we did, we scrambled into action, as so many parents do, to find solutions. Medical treatment, rehab, counseling, relapse, again and again. We learned that our system of rehabilitation and assistance is a (expensive) revolving door of frustration and despair – still met with a very strong social stigma and an overall lack of real resolve to solve this crisis. It is a crisis! There were many long days and nights of anguish. Every mood, every action, every word was met with scrutiny.

80,000 people a year in the U.S! I can’t even imagine what it is globally. It is sad to think that our son is just another tragic number amongst a mind-numbing statistic. He was a living, breathing, young man with fears, hopes, and dreams. Intensely creative and intelligent. Sensitive and kind.
Nick’s mom, his brother, and I learned quickly the stigma involved. From all directions: Family, friends, medical, legal, government, etc. People, being ‘addicted,’ or having one in the family, is still seen as a failure, a weakness, a bad choice, something to discuss in hushed tones, and then immediately brushed aside. It’s almost too much for those who haven’t dealt with it to understand. And why should they understand? What can you say? It isn’t normal, and it isn’t right.

It is difficult to discuss the fact that your loved one is literally fighting for their life in a hellish cycle of despair, failure, hope, with attempts at rebuilding and fragile optimism, while trying to maintain some sense of dignity. And for the family: the anguish, the helplessness, the frustration, the hopelessness while despondently watching this soul crushing self- destruction.

It takes a dramatic toll on everyone around: The fractured relationships. The destroyed trust. The cleaning up. The nights of absolute fear and desperation. It drives wedges. It becomes the sole focus, like a fixation. It is a devastatingly destructive force.

We listened to the experts, followed advice, set a pattern “they will only recover when they hit rock-bottom”. I guess in some cases it works. What is rock bottom? How do you stand back and watch someone you brought into this world, someone you are pre-wired to protect with your life, spiral and suffer? It’s debilitating. I don’t know the statistics as to how successful our current mode of treatment works for young people who become dependent while their brains are still developing. I don’t believe it is very successful.

We have been told to not blame ourselves for the ‘bad-choices’ he had made resulting in his death. I suppose, at some point, he had a choice. However, this was not his choice! I know for a fact that this cycle of addiction was not a choice. His brain was re-wired in ways that we don’t fully understand. Nick did not want this. He was desperate to change his life. He did not want this!

I last saw him a few weeks prior. He was sad, he was frustrated, and he was ashamed. But he wanted more. He was hopeful. I saw the Nick that we love. His humanity. We spent time talking about hopes, dreams, and realistic expectations. He was anxious to return to school. He was fascinated with neuroscience. He knew his brain would require time to heal, but he would become excited when speaking about what we currently know about neural pathways and how we still know so little about our own brains. He was curious to understand how the still developing brain of a young person would be altered, and how ultimately it could be repaired. He wanted to be involved in research. He wanted to help.

He had hope.

While together, he spoke with his mom on the phone. She told him how she loved him. He knew he was loved, and he knew she and I would do everything we could for him but that his life was his own. Before I returned to the East Coast I hugged him, told him I loved him, I was proud of him. We had plans to bring him back for Thanksgiving – to surprise his mom. And he would stay here. Start over. Go to school.

Hopes.

Despite all he had been through, he maintained his humanity, a fierce sense of humor but with great empathy and compassion for those around him. He always asked how others were, what more can we do to help others. He just wanted people to be happy. He didn’t want people to hurt. He would spend hours creating epic drawings. He always had a smile on his face. He cared for his appearance. His apartment was quirky and clean. Despite all he was going through, he respected himself and those around him.

His death was preventable. Nick had not used for several years. He, at one point, had been prescribed a combination of drugs for mood, anxiety, seizures, etc., which almost turned him into a zombie. We had gained control over that and he was only on a couple of necessary medications. Previously, he had developed a heart condition and was prone to seizures – quickly stopping those medications was not an option. He had been working. He enjoyed his job and worked hard. We felt secure in the fact that he had insurance and was stabilized – he was supporting himself.
That didn’t last. He was laid off and lost his insurance. He could no longer afford the monthly payments for the ACA.

This happened very quickly. I found out while I was there and got involved trying to get his insurance back. However, what I didn’t know was that he was on a ‘self-prescribed’ wind-down of the meds that he was required to take. He weaned himself off in a matter of weeks since he couldn’t afford the prescriptions. A medical detox of that nature usually takes several months. His brain couldn’t handle it. Obviously, the demons that he had been keeping at bay for so long came back with such force that he had no control over it. Physiologically, most overdoses after a long period of being clean are caused as the user reverts to whatever level of drug they were at when they stopped. The body no longer has the tolerance. The sudden ingestion of such a high dose is lethal. I believe that is what happened to Nick.

These are just some of the facts. None of what I can write really describes who Nick was and what he struggled with.

His mom paints a better picture:

”Nick had been staying at the mission, but one day in the middle of July he called me to tell me that his bike tire was blown out by a goathead (a large, hard thorn) and he was trying to get a baby bird that had fallen out of a tree onto the sidewalk, to the sanctuary. He asked if I could pick him up and take the bird for help. I located him and he held that bird like it was the most precious thing. I noticed that Nick was sweating and hot and dehydrated and my heart broke because I didn't have any water for him. I held back tears for my son because he was so focused on that tiny little creature instead of his own needs. I am so very proud of my son that he had a beautiful heart. His heart was so full of the needs of others, that it was hard for him to navigate in this cruel world.

When Nick's Dad and I showed up in Idaho to bring his ashes home, the neighbors came down to tell us what a wonderful young man he was... I heard that although Nick had very little, he always shared what he had with others and was so kind, caring and respectful. One young lady had been going through her own kind of hell with addiction and Nick took her in, gave her his clothes to wear and fed her and took care of her for days while she detoxed. She told us that he was the consummate gentleman who made her feel so safe and cared for. She said that he was not the kind of guy who would ever "cat-call" or speak disparagingly about women, but just the opposite. I could go on and on about the wonderful qualities of my beautiful son. I want everyone to know that he was so incredibly intelligent. He aspired to be a neuroscientist. He knew so much about medicine and was constantly researching addictions and alternative methodologies. His library was extensive. He was a walking encyclopedia, like his dad and his grandpa. I thank the Lord for the time, although very little, that I had with him. When he was born and we would take him out, people would stop us and tell us what a beautiful baby he was. His big brown eyes shining, taking it all in. Such a gift to us. Nick had a quick wit and was constantly making us laugh with his dry sardonic humor. I loved watching him and Ben laugh and tell jokes and play video games together. I have never been happier than I was being a mom to my beautiful sons.

I get up every day and am reminded that my beautiful boy is not on this planet anymore. I have to steel myself and connect with God who reminds me that my son (and my mom) show up when 2 lovely cardinals do a drive-by past my head, just when I need the reminder that God is good and he has my son in the palm of His hands and I will see him again soon.

I know what a struggle it was for him because I read his journal. He wanted so very dearly to face off the demons and conquer the addiction. If I could have given my life so that he could have a few years of peace and happiness, free of this scourge of addiction, I would have done so willingly. I am mad that God did not allow me to trade places with my son. I, like his dad and brother, want so much for everyone to know what a wonderful spirit he was. He was not the addiction. We all have afflictions. If someone had cancer, we would rally behind them. Sadly, when it comes to addiction, many feel as if the individual just has to "muster" and everything will be alright. It is not so. Addiction is a disease, like cancer. My only peace is that Nick is in the arms of our Lord and I will hopefully see him soon. Count your blessings if you have not been touched by this dark black hole. I pray that God will take this unimaginable pain and guide me to help others. I did not want to outlive my children. Please pray for Ben, Nick's brother. The devastation is impossible to detail. I pray that my friends and family who read this, will grab hold of their kids and pray a blessing over them and then lift my family up, so that we can continue, through the grief that greets us every day when we open our eyes to the day. This has changed us on a cellular level, but my prayer is that God will let my light shine through to help the next mom or dad, sister or brother, who is facing off the darkness of this terrible affliction. If you read this through to the end, thank you and please say a prayer for Nicholas."

Now there will always be this massive hole. A week before his death he posted a song “The Ballad of Me and My Brain”. I finally just listened to it. I wish I had sooner. He was telling us something.

Nick was larger than life. We miss him. We are still trying to process this. It has only been 4 months. How do we move on? There is no choice there. But how can we continue to honor Nick? How do the families of 80,000 people a year cope? Or how are the families of the nearly 12 million opioid users in American today cope? Nick was fortunate in the sense that his mother, father, and brother loved him fiercely. From what I have seen as I’ve become acutely aware of this crisis over the years, this is the exception not the rule – it’s too sad and a terrible indictment. Where do we go from here? It is still so raw. However, one thing we taught Nick and his brother – we don’t fight lying down. And – we fight. I am not sure how yet, but we will.

As I’m finishing this I am listening to his favorite song: “So Far (It’s Alright)” by ‘The 1975’. It’s upbeat but tells a grim story. The optimistic melody is deceptive. He loved discussing the lyrics and the multiple layers of meaning. Nick knew this story too well.

Happy Birthday to you Nick. We love you. We miss you. More than we can describe. We will see you again somewhere.

Susan was always indulgent from the age of 15, but suffered a traumatic brain injury in 1991 while working for Gulf Power. Even though the physical injury healed, she continued to struggle with migraines and chronic neck and shoulder pain. She began to over-indulge in her pain management medications. Her relationships with family and friends suffered due to her addiction and denial of her addiction.

She was a mother of two daughters and had to entrust their care to the girls' other family. The daughters grew up strong, smart and resilient. They also left Susan out of their lives because she would show up to events intoxicated or challenge boundaries.

One daughter is a physician assistant and reached out to her pain management providers and VA providers. No one seemed to think they could do anything different for Susan despite compassionate pleas to limit her medications.

Susan died unexpectedly on a Tuesday night after losing one of her life-long friends to cancer. She passed away with very little to her name and estranged from her family. Addiction stole everything from Susan, but no one would treat her addiction.

Please donate in my Mother’s name so that others can get treatment before its too late.

Leiren was incredibly bright, creative, and hungry for life. She experienced trauma as a child that left her heart wounded in ways she never quite figured out how to heal- but she was constantly searching. On her search she discovered illegal drugs. She tried her hardest to get herself clean, but lost her battle against addiction after fighting it for 15 years. All she wanted was for herself and her loved ones to be whole, happy, free, and to know God. She was extremely compassionate and fiercely protective of those she loved. She was the mother of three beautiful children- Tristan, Leionna, and Logan. She was a beloved daughter, granddaughter, sister, and friend.

There is not a day that goes by Chris that I don’t think of you, and I know that you are here with me still. You and I were so much alike. You are my beautiful, handsome nephew but I also considered you my son. You were so talented and giving and compassionate and all of that got robbed from you with your addiction, it literally took your soul. So now I know you are finally free and at peace and zooming around out there helping everyone and anyone you can, so I want to help people in honor and memory of you because I am so done with this opioid Epidemic in this country. It needs to stop! Until we meet again my beautiful boy. Love Auntie 💜💜💜💜💜💜

Jesse was such an amazing man who lost his life way too soon! He was all about family and he was so strong and had such a beautiful soul and a loving personality who always put a smile on my face. I love him forevermore. He was my rock, my whole world, who showed me what true love felt like! Gone but NEVER FORGOTTEN.

37, originally of Flushing, New York, passed away on Thursday, February 13, 2020. Eugene was an Army veteran who served our country proudly during Operation Enduring Freedom and continued to serve in the National Guard.

Born to Nancy Mass and Dudley Porterfield, Eugene was loved by many. The only brother of Nadine Mass Rascher (Robert) of Maywood, NJ, Christina Porterfield of Astoria, NY and Larissa Bailey (Eric) of Wilsonville, OR. Eugene was a much loved uncle to six nephews and recently, a new niece.

Eugene's struggle with addiction grew from a troubled childhood. As is common, he didn't stop loving his parents, he turned all of the negative feelings inward. He was bright and had many hopes, dreams and aspirations. But addiction is a shape-shifting evil imposter that often changed him, changed his focus and changed his plans. No matter what, he always worked to forgive and while still struggling with sobriety while in recovery, focused much of his emotional energy on letting go of his anger.

Eugene was much-loved and we rooted for him. The loss of my brother, who had so much he could contribute to the world, is untenable.

Sean Ryder Whitteaker of Norwalk, CT, passed away on January 26, 2020, at the age of 27. He was born on July 27, 1992, in Norwalk.

Sean will be missed everyday by his parents Marcie Ryder and Kyle Whitteaker, his two brothers and best friends, Kristopher Whitteaker and Tyler Whitteaker, his maternal grandparents, David and Paula Ryder, his girlfriend and love of his life Julia Silva, and many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. He was predeceased by his paternal grandparents Rodney and Jan Whitteaker.

Sean lived in Norwalk throughout his life. He attended Norwalk schools and graduated from Norwalk High School in 2010 where he was a standout member of the baseball and soccer teams. Sean was a sports enthusiast as both a player and avid fan. He rarely missed the opportunity to root on the Yankees, Jets, Rangers, Manchester United soccer, and his all-time favorite basketball player, LeBron James. Sean’s competitive spirit, whether it be in athletics, family card games, or video games, was unmatched. Sean loved his family and friends deeply. He greeted everyone with a warm smile and a memorable hug. He was particularly close with his two brothers They were often together working out at the gym, traveling to Vermont to snowmobile, or watching sports. Sean was amazing with children and animals – his kindred spirits. He could always be found entertaining the littlest cousins of the bunch, who will miss his silly personality and contagious smile, or snuggling up with the family pets who adored him as much as he adored them. Cooking came naturally to Sean, he was always happy to throw together a delicious, gourmet meal at a moment’s notice.

Those who knew Sean, even just a little, lost a shining light in their life. He had so much goodness, so much capacity to bring happiness to others. The world is a lesser place without him.

Ryan and I met in photography class. The first day of class I turned over to the girl sitting next to me and I said “I bet you he’s from California!”. “How do you know," responds the girl?. And all I could say is “Californians just know other Californians”. I found out the next week in class that he was a transplant just like myself. He had moved to Texas from California just a month prior to class. We clicked automatically. We were both artistic by nature. We adopted a doggy together named Buddy after only 2 months of dating. I had found out that Ryan was 5 years clean from drugs and alcohol and I was excited to be dating somebody who didn’t drink or do drugs. I didn’t know Ryan through addiction back before him getting clean.
Our relationship bloomed and we saw each other on a daily basis. He had become my best friend. After close to two years of dating is when I found the empty six pack of beer under the bathroom sink. My heart sunk so deep into my bum. Alcohol wasn’t my Ryan’s go to. He had been a heroin and Xanax user. I knew in my heart that if he didn’t get clean quickly that alcohol would turn into drugs.
On December 27th my head had just been laying on his chest just hours prior to the worst call I ever received. I loved listening to his heart beat and I loved my head moving up and down as his chest rose and fell.
I went back to say my goodbyes. A nurse was on my left side holding up my body and my mom on my right side. I laid my head down one more time on his chest but this time I didn’t hear that heart beat I was so use to hearing. No rising or falling... my life had fallen apart in that very moment. I just wanted him to wake up and tell me he was playing a sick joke. His skin was still warm from the CPR. It didn’t seem real to me. I kissed his forehead and held his hand and just laid there. My dad was behind me as well and a pastor who came into the room along with an officer in charge of the case. I could have spent longer with him but I knew I was going to have to kiss him and say good bye. My Ryan lived a great life! He still deserved more time on this earth. He still had so much he needed to do. He wanted to become a vet tech. He was gentle, kind, soft spoken, loved animals (especially dart frogs), he loved his bearded dragon Frank and our dog Buddy! He was an AMAZING photographer and had a light that shined so bright.

The disease of addiction seeks and destroys. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you're from, if you come from a good or bad family, it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, etc., it doesn’t care!!! This disease took a good man and broke so many people. I can say that Ryan’s passing has forever changed the woman I once was. I’ll never be the same. My heart however goes out to his family. I’ve watched a family destroyed by the loss of Ryan.. Ryan who was a LOVING son, grandson, brother, uncle, and best friend. Ryan truly truly LOVED his family!! The bond he had with his sweet momma was so precious. He had a very different relationship with each one of his sisters and he loved them so much and he as a huge protector. Ryan was an uncle who loved his adorable nephew. He was about to be an uncle to another baby boy right before he passed away. Ryan sadly missed the opportunity to meet him. But I can tell you he was as SO excited to meet the little man! Lastly, the love he had for his grandparents was beautiful.

He’s deeply missed by so many. Sometimes I pick up the phone just wanting to call and tell him something awesome and I realize that it’s no longer a possibility. I miss his voice, his hugs, and everything about him.

Sean was a normal, happy child until senior year in high school when he started experimenting with drugs. By the time he was a sophomore in college, he was addicted to opioids. He went to rehab several times and just could never overcome the disease. He died with benzos and heroin in his system.
The real Sean was creative, funny, insightful, handsome, intelligent, kind, empathetic, loving, and kind. He was a talented guitarist. He loved comedy, movies, and music. He could listen to what was going on in my world and say the most thoughtful, kind words about it. His goal was to counsel others in their addictions. He had lots of schooling that he succeeded in. Whenever we were together, he never hesitated giving out hugs and I love yous.
This world needs a lot of improvement in the rehabs, insurance coverage, half-way houses, and K-TRACs. Rehabs need to not just be a resort, but a successful treatment center for addicts. Insurance needs to cover more of this epidemic for longer than 30 days. We need more half-way houses. There isn't enough for recovering addicts to enter into. Missouri and any other state that doesn't have K-TRAC's need to implement that for drug control.
Sean is loved!

My beautiful son William who liked to be called Billy was very silly and very kind. He always found the good in everyone. He had the kindest heart, soft spoken, and liked to make his friends and family laugh. He was artistic, liked to do different things with his hair, one day it was blonde, the next red and blonde and black together. He loved cutting family and friends' hair. He loved paleontology study. And pokemon. He would write his own stories. He was the best Son and brother, loved his family with all his heart, even with his struggles with addiction. He will always be remembered as the kindest soul and caring son, brother and friend. Forever loved in our hearts.