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

Forever missed. Son, brother, father of two beautiful girls.

My brother Anthony was truly what you would call "one of a kind". He had a personality that was larger than life. He was kind, charismatic, charming, loving, caring, selfless, and so many more wonderful things. My brother also struggled with addiction for 15 years. In those 15 years, I saw him go from a person with unlimited potential and drive to someone unrecognizable. As strong, willful, and intelligent as my brother was, addiction was that much stronger and smarter. I couldn't believe how much it changed my brother. Anthony ALWAYS took pride in his looks. Before his addiction he was always well dressed (designer clothes only), had impeccable hygiene, was employed, and self sufficient. By the time he passed away, he was none of those things. They were all stripped from him. I will never forget how much it hurt me when I was looking for clothes for his viewing and he had none. All of his belongings fit into two garbage bags. That was NOT my brother, that was the addiction. I cannot even begin to express the hurt, disappointment, anger, rage, and every other crazy emotion I feel. I HATE that addiction won this battle. I HATE that my brother is gone and I will never hear his voice or listen to him go on one of his many political rants. Addiction ripped our family apart. We will NEVER be the same. We love you brother and will miss you every single day. Until we meet again....

Damir struggled with addiction for more than seven years. He got addicted while he was in high school. He was stealing his ill father’s narcotics and when that became unavailable he switched to street heroin, which was readily available on every street corner and very cheap. He was trying to self medicate his bipolar disorder. Because of lack of adequate health insurance, he never got proper treatment--not for his bipolar nor for his heroin addiction. He desperately wanted to stop his addiction but lack of access to proper medical treatment defeated his multiple efforts to get help. He overdosed on fentanyl on 10/18/2017. That’s why I’m here, with Shatterproof, to raise awareness about this devastating disease and hopefully to save other lives since I couldn’t save my son’s life.

Austin, our Angel. He was a brave soul, and we lost him on October 13, 2018 at age 24. He struggled for three years with addiction, treatment centers, and many overdose. We were his life support system towards the end. Austin was an amazing young man with much dignity. He was a hard worker. Our hearts are empty without him. Brother Corey, also Austin's best friend, is one year sober and his mom Laurie is 16 years sober. We were Austin's biggest fans. We love you Austin Michael.

My father was a very ambitious, hard worker who owned many successful businesses. He was a weight lifter, football player, track runner, saxophone player, and had a smile and personality that could light up a room. Raised by a WWII drill instructor for a father, his life was abusive and in the 60s and 70s he was told by his mother to never spread your families dirty laundry, which included getting help. My dad was a great man that self medicated for 50 years to bury his demons because he didn't think he could ask for help. Through his attempt to bury his demons he learned that they always come back once the "medication" wears off. Alcohol to pain pills to cocaine then all at once until he down spiraled quickly from a success story to the inability to care for himself. Over the years of his addiction he gave himself diabetes, pancreatitis, and a
heart murmur that he had since a child worsened. He suffered a brain aneurysm 10 years prior to his death and spent the last of his years in and out of hospitals being cared for by my amazing stepmother. After spending 10 days in the hospital, he came home, walked to his truck to go out for a beer and died of a heart attack next to his truck. His body was found that evening by the police sent to search for him. I miss every phone call, conversation, and most of all his smile. My father no longer suffers from his addiction, his demons, or his health. He is no longer fighting in his own head, the demons have layed to rest, and my father is finally at peace.

Hope is my miracle child. She was conceived via IVF, after years of infertility. She is such a beautiful soul. So kind, thoughtful, funny, quick witted, athletic, beautiful, loving and loved. Softball is her passion and helping others was also a passion.

She was raped at 13 and had a rocky relationship with her father. At 15, she was offered a pain pill to help ease her internal pain. She overdosed shortly after she started using, recovered, and was rehabilitated for two years. After suffering loss of a job and boyfriend, she relapsed. Shortly after that she became the girlfriend of a heroin addict. He gave her the first shot of heroin after running out of money for pills and she was immediately hooked. This was just after turning 18. She went thru jail, rehab, prison, jail again, rehab, then prison again. She fought so hard against her disease and it was her desire to become a counselor so she could help others like herself overcome addiction.

It was Hope's Hope that one day, no others would have to suffer from this disease like she had.

32 days after being released from prison, she used one last time.

She kissed me, hugged me, told me good night and that she loved me. I found her dead the next morning.

Hope's Hope is becoming a reality, for I am working hard to make sure her story is told. By starting a foundation with the goal in mind, if I save even just one person then Hope's Hope will be realized.

Steven was always my baby boy.
He towered over me and was quite the big man but he was still always my baby. He called me momma and always told his friends what a great mom he had. He also told them not to mess with me because they'd be in big trouble if they did. (He had them all fooled) He was proud of his momma.
Steven was smart and so very funny. Just thinking about the good times makes me giggle. It was his desire for me to be proud of him and I was.
Steven struggled for about 15 years with drug addiction. It started off with pot and just increased to heroin. I was in denial for a long time because he wasn't "raised" that way. Addiction runs DEEP in our family and I was the one that was going to break it. But, even though I did, my son could not.
Steven spent six months in jail and then six months in rehab. He came home to our house while getting back on his feet. He said he had promised God he would get his life together before he turned 30. Things were looking like he was going to be able to keep that promise. He was back to the son I knew before addiction took over his life.
Those hopes and excitement lasted for five days. He overdosed on Friday May 25th at our home. It wasn't heroin as we thought but it was fentynal. We still don't know what happened. I am so very sad.
I have learned so much more about addiction since he passed away and if I can help just one person to not go through this then I will continue to learn and share what I know.
I miss my son so very much. He would be turning 30 tomorrow if he were still here. I think about him all the time. He was so much more then his addiction and I focus on all the good, loving, and funny things that made him special. I love you Steven.

My Colee was an amazing young woman. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do once she put her mind to something. She was not only my daughter but my best friend as well. That girl and I were each other’s rock. She was tiny with a huge smile, the kind that lights up a darkened room. The most beautiful blue eyes. She loved her mommy with such passion. Her name was Nicole but we called her Colee. She was brave and smart had a heart of gold. She is loved and missed and she was mine. Forever “24”, forever my Colee. Colee’s mommy. Always called me mommy.

My father was a WW 11 veteran who fought under general Patton. He returned from war an emotional and mental cripple who very quickly had eight children with my mother. Dad could never adjust to what life demanded of him. He drank and gambled every day of his existence after returning from war. I watched his progression as a young boy and witnessed far too much for a kid to endure without years down the road following his footsteps into my own heroin addiction and alcoholism. I am 42 years sober writing this. My dads progression was horrible. He eventually wound up addicted to prescribed medications, which, at age 49, he committed suicide. He never drew a sober breath and lost out on many things, especially his family. He rendered us poor and homeless for many years and was violent. I didn't know then what I know and understand now about the disease and its destruction. I was 16 when he died and hated myself for hating him. These are the dynamics of the disease as we now know. I'm a father of three children now and a grandfather and know much more about addiction then most men my age. What's strange about this is I've never had an opportunity to honor my dad for the things he did pass down to me. I've never publicly said thank you for fighting a war that saved not only lives but preserved civilization and freedom that I and my children live with now. My father was a smart warm loving man when at his senses. I know he suffered tremendously and wished he could have changed his world, but as Bill Wilson said, "No human power could relieve his malady!" My dad was powerless and never had a chance back then. So today, dad, just a couple of weeks after what would have been your 99th birthday, I say thank you, and I wish I could get just a couple of hours to pick that wonderful mind you never really had a chance to expand. I wish my kids could have met you also. And, lastly I want to say that despite many wrongs you did something right enough to instill in me that I wanted to be sober and healthy. You were my reason to even consider such a thing. Thank you dad. Thank you from the bottom of my sober addicts heart.

your boy,

rich Davis

Although Kelley was my husband's ex-wife, she and I developed a friendship. As the mother of my stepchildren, I felt it would be beneficial if we all got along for the benefit of the kids. She was a devoted mother and grandmother.

You would probably never look at Kelley and see someone who had a problem with pain pills, benzos, or muscle relaxers. For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be a typical mom who devoted her life to her children and grandson. Kelley had a dependency to pain pills that she recognized and tried to treat. She tried suboxone treatment several times but the doctors she sought treatment from were unreliable. She knew she had a problem, but at times, the pain she suffered was too much. When she passed, she was seeing a pain doctor again and had a prescription for strong pain killers.

The day she passed, Kelley had taken the same combination of medications nearly every day. No one expected that this time she would not wake. Her daughter Kayla tried in vain to resuscitate her mother. This loss is with us every day. Her children miss their mother, and the loss has cast a shadow that will never lift.

Ryan was a fun-loving, caring person that would do for anyone before doing for himself. I miss his smile and love for animals. I think Ryan tried to hard to please other people while not focusing on his own health. Ryan is missed by many but will never be forgotten.

Drugs do not define my son.mHe was awesome and loving and had a huge heart. He loved soccer most of all!!! He tried to get sober on his own but unfortunately fentanyl in cocaine stole him from this earth.

David had a big heart and had many friends who cared about him. He was very close with his family, especially his brother and sister, and he loved spending time with his extended family. He enjoyed outdoor activities and loved his dog, Luna. He was a gifted musician who could play the drums, piano, and guitar, and he also wrote a great deal of music. He loved ping pong and will always be known as the family ping pong world champion.

Kristy was an amazing mother, daughter, and friend. She always put her kids first and showed them nothing less than unconditional love. She loved baking, dancing, goofing around, and enjoying life. Kristy was my mom and I miss her every day. I miss her dancing to Jessie's Girl obnoxiously. I miss cuddling with her and her rubbing my head for hours on end (I will never understand how she was able to do it). I miss baking cookie burgers and other weird desserts with her. I miss arguing with her about stupid things because at least she was around to argue with. I miss her pure acceptance and understanding of everything against the "norm". She always loved my bright hair colors, all the piercings I would get, and all of my tattoos. She accepted me for who I am, my sexual orientation, all of my quirks, and never judged me for all of my mistakes. My moms life was nowhere near easy. She struggled with multiple issues throughout her whole life regarding her mental health and physical pain. My mom is not her addiction and she struggled every day trying to get healthy. She tried so hard to get better, she apologized, cried, got on track, relapsed, overdosed, and the cycle continued. My mom tried her hardest and her effort went unnoticed, mostly by me and I'll never forgive myself. She was the light of every room she walked into. Her laugh and smile was contagious. She always knew how to brighten up the mood. My mom lost her fight with addiction to heroin on October 18, 2017. There will forever be a hole in every heart that encountered her, especially mine. Love you forever mom. I will forever miss the comfort of being in your presence and your unconditional love.

Since the end of 2015 through December 2016, my sister Teresa (Terry) Quigley had exhibited hallucinations and dangerous delusions, which escalated and become more dangerous to her and others.
As best as we, my brother Paul and I, can put together – at the end of 2015 – Terry began seeing someone for pain management. From her visits, she was prescribed the following drugs to assist with managing her pain
OXYCODENE 15MG
12/18/15 120 TABS 02/17/16 120 TABS 03/18/16 120 TABS
04/15/16 120 TABS *05/12/16 120 TABS *05/19/16 120 TABS
06/16/16 135 TABS 07/15/16 135 TABS 08/15/16 135 TABS
09/08/16 15 TABS 09/12/16 150 TABS

She passed away 12/28/16.

TOTAL OF 1290 TABS FOR 9 MOS – OR AN AVG 143 TABS A MONTH – AVG 5 DAY

HOW THIS IS MANAGING HER PAIN, when monthly she’s taking them and every couple of months the quantity is increased – VS – decreased, which would be the way to manage.
At this point, unfortunately, Terry was ‘addicted’ to the Oxy and is deceased.
Terry exhibited several episodes of hallucinations, which also resulted in extreme paranoia and anger to the point of me fearing for my safety.
Feb 16 – Terry and I went to Cabo, Mexico – an annual trip. During this trip, I witnessed the following –
Sluggish and sleepy all the time to the point Terry couldn’t even watch TV or read a book, both things she loves to do.
Terry yelled loudly there was someone in her bedroom – measuring the sliding glass door curtains and keeping her awake – it was about 3:00am when this began and it took me a couple of hours to talk her down – she wanted me to call security to get them out.
Terry was with me at the pool – after much discussion to get out of the room, I finally got her to go. We got to the lounge chairs and she couldn’t stay awake – was mumbling and slurring her words and displayed agitation. After a few hours, she stood up and said I was a B***H that I didn’t wake her to go to the buffet and became abusive to the extent that other vacationers at the pool were concerned. When asked where did she see a buffet – it was a brick wall surrounding the pool area … the security guards were concerned and I did get her calmed down telling her that we would need to leave if she didn’t quiet down. Note – the next day – she was a little better – but when approached by some of the guests as to how she was doing – she became embarrassed as they told her how violent and scary she was yesterday. She asked me – did I do that and when I said yes, she was extremely embarrassed – but had no memory.
Throughout the two week stay – there were several similar incidents and I did tell her I recommended she consider checking herself into a long-term care facility, and if in fact the pain was that bad maybe assisted living would be best.
I got her home, which was difficult as not sure if she would become combative on the plane. I got her a window seat and kept fingers crossed she would sleep all the way, and I guess she took sufficient OXY to assist with that.
Now home – she didn’t remember anything about what occurred – and now a new hallucination. Mid-March, I called and she again got abusive on the phone saying I was trying to steal her home and I had arranged to sell her house and realtors were there showing her house. She had called her lawyer and they were there filing an injunction against me and that she didn’t want to speak with me further. I asked who was there – she said none of my business – I further pursued it and she said my other sister Lorrie was there helping her keep the realtor out. I asked to speak with her and she let me – and Lorrie stated – NO, THERE WAS NO ONE THERE just her and Terry.
In April, Terry fell, hit her head and needed staples to close the wound. She was treated in a hospital. No one knows what or how it happened and she’s not saying.
In May, my brother Paul was visiting. During the visit, Terry fell again, hit her head and was delusional for over a day.
Terry then woke up Paul at 3:00am screaming for him to come downstairs immediately as there was a lady in her living room giving birth. When Paul went downstairs, the front door was wide open, the kitchen table was set with recently made sandwiches that Terry made for “them”. There was NO ONE there and it took Paul several conversations to convince Terry of that.
In June and July there were several phone calls between Terry and myself where she was saying ‘weird things’ like where was I? Her neighbor saw me at the supermarket and I was spying on her? I was living in Spain at the time and nowhere near Long Island.
At the end of June there was a car accident, we don’t know what happened as she wouldn’t discuss and there was paperwork stating if she wants a copy of the report where to send for it. NOTE – the cars front end is damaged to the point you cannot easily open the driver’s seat door and the passenger side mirror hanging on by a cord.
In August, I went to visit Terry for about five days with the stipulation she would sleep in the evenings and we would get out and about during the daytime or I would leave. She did much better – ate well and was sleeping and up and about. Though she did complain about being in pain so I wonder if she cut back on the OXY.
During September, again very odd phone calls and disappeared – not answering calls for many days at a time.
During October, I called and spoke with Terry due to text messages – saying for me to call the police, someone is breaking in, HELP.
Mind you, I was in Spain and she knew that and with the time difference it was sent during a time my phone would be turned off. When I tried to call her, she said all was OK and what was I talking about??
She had several, at least three, alarms where police came out, found nobody breaking in and no threat. Terry was fined $100 for the third time. There have been several times the Suffolk County Police have been dispatched due to her hallucinations about someone breaking in and nothing was found.
The next time we spoke, she said I was to leave her alone as she was working for the military. When I asked what she was doing, she said you’ll find out when the military and FBI come to my house to arrest me for building bombs.
Oct 21 (?) – another car accident – appears she hit the garage door, but not sure – there was a police paper on what to do.
A day or so later, I was on my way flying home and in Madrid airport when I received a text to call her, which I did – no response. Upon landing in DFW airport, my phone rang and it was her – where was I? As she saw me in the parking lot of Target and she needed my help – as she had fallen. She wasn’t on her phone, so I asked her – where was she – and - she yelled – hey where am I?? The person who owned the phone said you’re at -- Target in Montauk – when I asked her to speak to them, she started yelling and told me I was a B***H and she was hanging up and would call me later that night.
That was my last call before her admittance into the hospital, which happened a couple of days later – DUE TO HALLUCINATIONS! Once admitted they found an issue with her heart and opted to treat that vs the real problem of addiction.
My brother and I flew up to see what was going on. While visiting her, we discover that she had broken two ribs and she doesn’t remember when or how. She kept saying nothing was wrong with her and she wants to go home – is belligerent – refuses to wear the heart monitor and arguing with the nurses about taking Lasix and wants her pain meds – as on a scale of 1-10 – she’s a 20!!
Later, Paul, in a conversation, mentioned that she changed to Dish TV – to which she went crazy saying she wasn’t there and someone must have broken in to let them do the installation …. REALLLLY??? A break in to install Dish TV? We found the invoice – it was installed on Oct 17 – and she didn’t remember that she had Dish TV installed (whole house - 3 rooms). Insisted she wasn't home for it. They had to break in and install it without her approval.
Unfortunately, throughout her stay in the hospital, hallucinating continued and she continued to refuse to wear the heart monitor, even though the nurse was very patient and explained that she needed it for them to know what to do for her. She insisted there is nothing wrong with her.

Once again, the system let her down as instead of moving her to a facility to assist her with the problem at hand – the Head of the Psych department spoke with her for about five minutes and deemed her capable of taking care of herself and released her. My brother Paul and I picked her up approximately 7PM and when I went to get the nurse and wheelchair my sister accused me of trying to commit her and that they don’t do wheelchairs anymore. When we got home the first thing she did was search the house to find her pills and got more and more agitated when she couldn’t remember where she put them and accused ME of hiding or worse throwing them away. Paul had to step in to calm her down and get her to tell him what she was looking for as she was tearing the house apart – going through drawers – saying someone has been in her house and put things into the drawer. She crawled upstairs and spent about 30 minutes looking and when she came back downstairs was calmer – she found the Oxy!

HMMMM is this the behavior of a normal person – or a legalized ADDICT?

Terry didn’t complain about pain constantly ... not enough to justify the dosage of oxy that she was on.

I was truly/deeply concerned that my sister, Terry, did not receive the proper medical care.
Finally – if in fact Terry was in sufficient pain to warrant using 5+ Oxy pills per day, then maybe she should be in a safer place to determine what’s causing this pain and what are the alternatives to treat versus this.
All we wanted was to OFFER Terry a better quality of life!!
Terry was a nurse for over 30 years – and spent her career helping people who couldn’t help themselves or who needed her help … She did it willingly and with love and care!! THIS IS WHAT SHE NEEDED someone who would do the same for her – vs – just medicating her …
I am very saddened that my next call was my sister’s Dead!

Big teddy bear. That’s how I would describe him. Youngest of five kids. Followed my dad everywhere. So attached to our mother. Always cried at sappy movies, and even commercials. He might have looked scary, being so big and covered with tattoos, but he was our big teddy bear.

Dad passed and he turned to alcohol and probably more. Got sober for two years! We had a nice picnic at the homestead to celebrate his sobriety! He was on a methadone program but didn’t want the crutch, so he weaned himself off and finally rid himself of it. So proud of him!!! I knew he could do it!

Turn the clock ahead a few years. Mom falls ill with cancer and gives up the treatments. She stayed home until the week before she passed. Kyle has the night shift so the rest of us covered the rest of the time. We always hoped he would endure during her illness but we began to see those familiar signs. He was using again.

He always said he wouldn’t live without my mother. Well, eventually she passed away. But he survived. We all survived. New days on the horizon but he just couldn’t settle. The disease just became so much bigger than he was able to handle.

The day he died he had been put back on the methadone program, and had just took his morning dose, added some xanex, self-medicated with antihistamines, and never woke up.

My sister and I found him. The medical examiners report confirmed that it was an accidental combination of drugs and that he might not have died that day, except he was also self-medicating with antihistamines for a cold, and they believe it was too much for his heart to keep beating. He died in his sleep.

The struggle for those left behind is so real and it doesn’t end. Glad he is not suffering with the disease of addiction. But that doesn’t make it any easier. We miss him every day. I’m helping change the stigma of drug addiction. I’m Shatterproof Strong.

Tee Rae was an Energetic, fun loving, outgoing, and vibrant woman! No matter what she was struggling with she always kept a smile on her face. She was a fierce spirit with no shortage of friends and family who adored her and loved her unconditionally!

Growing up in a small town, everyone kinda knew everyone. And everyone knew Ty. If they didn’t, they wanted to. He was kind, he was different. He had so much love to give and he gave it to so many, expecting nothing in return.
Ty was awake when most were not. I remember falling asleep every other night on FaceTime with him. And sure enough, when I woke up, he was still there, watching a movie on the other side of the screen.
He could talk about anything with anyone with ease. He never judged. He was genuine and honest.

His struggle with addiction made the little things big and the bright side dark. The one thing that was never shaken through it all is the love he had for his friends, new and old, and his family.

Dillan was a "mama's boy". He never did anything wrong. Dillan was the life of the party, plenty of friends, and very athletic with a beautiful smile that attracted everybody to him. He loved the Lord and attended many church functions/camps and even taught himself to play the guitar. In June 2008, his stepfather and the man who raised him, suddenly died of a heart attack at the young age of 41. This sent Dillan in a downward spiral because the last time he spoke to Tom, Tom and I were taking Dillan to a rehab facility for treatment and Dillan was extremely high and angry and said to Tom that he wished he was dead. Two weeks later when Dillan heard the news of Tom's death, those last words he spoke to Tom echoed through and through, never to be silenced...until December 30, 2010, while laying in his bed in a halfway house, Dillan, still struggling with his addiction, and ups and downs of life, chose to use (three days after completing his 4th rehab in 1 1/2 years) and he never woke up. He was found, lifeless, the words finally stopped echoing in his mind, and Dillan returned to his father. The second worst phone call in my life, "M'am, this is Officer Reed of the Phoenix Police Department, where are you?"

My sweet son Dillan Anthony has passed on from this life; he suffers no more. I'll never forget what Dillan told me, he said, "Mom, I'm not a bad kid, I'm just a sick kid" and that is what I wish for more people to truly understand. These are not "bad people"--they are sick people and need the proper care and attention that anybody else gets and is entitled to with a serious life threatening disease. This is not a choice, it's a disease. Dillan was only 19 years young but I'll always remember another thing that Dillan always said, "It's not goodbye, it's see ya later," and I have faith and trust that I WILL see you later my sweet Dillan.

Devin was depressed from the loss of his dad just two years prior and began to use, feeling as it helped him numb his pain. Sadly he got a hold of fentanyl and that was the cause of his death. He was so loving and had many friends and was always the one to make us laugh. And I miss him forever.