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

Derek was a son, brother, uncle, grandson, best friend, and more. He was my little brother and my best friend. I miss everything about him. He gave the best hugs and ended every phone call with I love you. He was honest and kind in the most genuine way. He would do anything for his family and his friends. His heart was so big, there was no end to the love he gave to those around him. But he was sensitive and that took a toll on him. He fought depression for most of his life which led to his addiction. We almost lost him once years before to a near fatal overdose but he recovered and went on to give us nine more years with him. During that time he was sober, he graduated college, he was running the family business, he was always there. Steady and strong. But the depression always came back. At some point he started using again. He hid it for a while. By the time he told us he was too far gone. As a family we did all we could, but in the end, he lost his battle. We found him on October 21, 2017. He passed away from an overdose and is gone from us forever. Our lives will never be the same without him.

"I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Wherever you go, I go." - ee cummings

He suffered from addiction, but that was not his definition.
He was funny and kind. He was the most generous person I have ever met, and would always go the extra mile to help someone in need.
He lit up the room with his big personality, bright smile, and contagious laugh.
He was a bright light, and his light still shines on everything he touched and in the hearts of all who loved him.
He wanted so badly to be free of his addiction. His dream was to help others who struggled with this affliction.

I miss Marc's smile and love for life. Marc was my firstborn, I didn't know about his addiction because I missed all the signs. He was intelligent and bright and owned his own finance company. I miss his laugh and his beautiful smile, I miss him calling my number. I miss him everyday.

My son Christopher died of heroin addiction, which he battled for years on and off. A disease known to all too many, whether young, old, wealthy or poor, it does not discriminate.
Rehab and sober houses became a short fix. He was clean for three years and we all felt he was on his way to the life we always wanted for him.
He had a new job he loved, so many friends, new car, the list goes on.
It took only one day and it all came to an end. Recovery is a day to day struggle whether on Suboxone or Methadone. The evil hides in the back of your mind waiting for the chance to strike yet again.
We tried for years to save him from this horrific disease to no avail.
The pain of a broken heart and emptiness everyday will be with us for the rest of our lives.
Christopher is the shining light in our world that will never go dim. There are no words to describe our love for him.
Rest in Peace our beautiful son until we see you again.

He would be the "party" at the party! His laugh was just classic but most of all he was a beautiful human being with a loving heart that only knew to love always and never judge, we miss you so much and you will forever live in our hearts.

It’s hard to conceive that it’s been a year since you passed away.

The very last time I saw you, you were sitting across the kitchen counter from me, enjoying a stack of pancakes, eggs, and a latte and chuckling over an old book of poems you had authored as a child.

That moment feels so incredibly close. Your ear to ear smile and laughter is forever ingrained in my heart. Your radiating warmth and love lit all of our lives. You were a big teddy bear that everyone wanted to hug.

Albert Einstein once said that, ‘The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.’ The love you brought to this world in your short life lives eternally through the people you inspired.

The outpouring of friends who told us of how you helped in their journey with addiction disease has been heartwarming. And your impact on family members is unfolding in many different ways. Your kid brother has picked up your passion for sports and athleticism. Your younger sisters are influenced by you in their creative writings, artwork, music and life goals. Your dad has been enlightened in his philosophical and spiritual pursuit and carries you in his heart in all his endeavors. And I will continue to hold you by my side as I honor the call to action you asked of me in the search for solutions to the opioid epidemic that has taken so many precious lives including yours.

Yesterday, July 13th, we honored you by climbing up Mount Greylock, a mountain in MA that you wanted to hike. There was no better way to celebrate your life and birthday than through what you thoroughly enjoyed - being in the midst of beautiful nature surrounded by people who loved you.

At the top of the mountain, the highest peak in MA, we visited the Veterans Memorial Tower. Inside the tower, was written:
'Those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence'.

Thank you for guiding us to this beautiful point. We miss you dearly Alec. But we feel blessed to have been loved by you and know that your spirit travels closely and serves as a guiding light for the rest of our days.

Sending you an abundance of love and hugs.

Alexander Pelletier, our beloved son, grandson, and brother died in his sleep on his 26th birthday, July 13, 2018. Alec was recovering from the disease of addiction, and he looked forward to a spiritually fulfilling life of sobriety. Alec’s absence here on Earth will leave voids in the hearts of many. He was known for his extraordinary athleticism, affectionate and loving heart, and contagious laughter.

Kimberly, as only she would allow me to call her, Kim to everyone else, was my only sister, my best friend, and my biggest baby lol. I have never experienced such pain. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her!! Love you, sister

Elijah had undergone treatment for opioid addiction through his mid-teens and lost his battle with this disease at just 18 years old. He will always be remembered for his smile and the most contagious belly laugh there was.

Zane grew up in Allied Gardens in San Diego, CA.  He excelled in his schoolwork, music, and sports at a very young age. He loved to play the guitar and enjoyed playing soccer, basketball, and then baseball into his early teens. He played in his church's praise band until his junior year of high school. Zane loved his friends and loved having fun. He loved hiking, fishing, and camping with both family and friends. He started dabbling with drugs in middle school and by his later high school years, he was hooked on anything that made him feel good. Drinking wasn't so much his thing as trying out new drugs that made him feel better. He had a bad bout of ulcerative colitis  and then was diagnosed with Crohn's disease in his mid twenties and was prescribed pain medicine, Norco and oxycodone, which he quickly discovered helped greatly with his colon pain, and also with the feelings of depression and inadequacy that he had begun to feel since high school.  We didn't know that he was dealing with these feelings back then as he was quite the showman and hid his feelings well. He couldn't get his pain med's once his disease went into remission and we found out that someone (a random person, not a friend) introduced him to smoking heroin. His family and friends knew after a while since it drastically altered his mood and general attitude towards life. He could still pull off being sober and being 'Zane' in the beginning, but we all had suspicions when he relapsed after rehab. He was under the spell of the drug he hated most in the world, but ultimately, could not withstand. We got his death certificate yesterday and his cause of death was Fentanyl, something he told us we would never have to worry about and that he was very afraid of. He had easy access to his dealer through Venmo and Uber, which were the last charges on his bank account the night before he died. He ultimately felt the battle was too hard and the feeling of 'nothing' was too big of a temptation in his young life, and for this we will always be sorry and wish that we could have done more to help him. We will miss our beloved brother, son, and friend deeply and forever.

Jeffrey Michael Wagner, 25, of Laurel, MD died suddenly on June 30,2018. He was born January 29,1993 in Silver Spring, MD. He attended St. Mary's School and Dematha and Laurel High Schools.

Beloved son of Becky and Jim Wagner. Beloved brother of Sister Brittany and Ally, brother in law Miguel and nephew Alexander. He also leaves his maternal grandmother Nancy Gottshall, paternal grandparents Kevin and Carla Wagner, and many aunts, uncles, and cousins. He was proceeded in death by his grandfather Rick Gottshall.

Jeffrey loved the outdoors. Always riding around on his bike and skateboard. The family loved camping and the beach. They took many trips to Deep Creek Lake, Hatteras Island, and Ocean City. He was one smart cookie and a gifted artist. Jeff was a real charmer with his cute freckles and sweet smile. Taken way too young, but his memory will live on through his loved ones.

"Don't think of him as gone away, his journey's just begun. Life holds so many facets, this earth is only one. Just think of him as resting from the sorrows and the tears, in a place of warmth and comfort where there are no days and years. And think of him as living in the hearts of those he touched ... for nothing loved is ever lost and he was loved so much."

Ethan was rare. You don’t come across many people like him in life. He was selfless, caring, loving, intelligent, and funny. As a child, much of his time was spent either on the front lawn tossing the ball around, swimming in the pool with friends, or on the golf course with his father. Ethan was an avid reader and writer, who enjoyed writing poetry. He drew much inspiration from his idol, Jim Morrison, not only from his personal poetry but also from the music of “The Doors.” Following in the footsteps of his favorite comedians, Chris Farley and Doug Stanhope, Ethan was a “stand-up comedian”, always cracking jokes at the expense of his family and friends. Most importantly, Ethan loved and he loved hard. He cared deeply about his family and friends. 

Ethan helped me get through some extremely tough seasons in my life. He was present when no one else was. Ethan, if I could tell you one thing- it is you absolutely changed my life. In every way possible. You played the role of brother the best. Chloe would agree also. Mom & Dad miss you and love you more than anything. We are all sorry we couldn’t save you.

I miss you and love you buddy. We all do. 

Love,

Morgan

I miss and think about my daughter everyhour of everyday. I am thankful to God for the 26 years he gave me with her. I know that she is now at Peace and with her Heavenly Father.
My daughter suffered from addiction. Christa was turning her life around when she passed away in her sleep on 4/11/2017.
She did not die from an overdose. She passed because her body could not handle the misuse from addiction.
I miss her so much that sometimes it's hard to breathe!!! My belief in Christ is what sustains me for I know I will see her again when it’s my time to enter into eternity with her.❤️ She was also a believer in Christ.
I love you my sweet daughter.

This is something I wrote on David's 2 year anniversary of his passing. I wanted to share it in memory of him.

Two years have passed since you left David and the world is a different place. Much has changed. I am changed. The fog of the beginning is lifting. The acute attacks of realization still knock me down but I've learned how to recover. Despair has loosened its tight grip ever so slightly and maybe just temporarily. The time has made me acknowledge. Not accept but acknowledge. I now know that I won't find your face in a crowd, even in the largest of ones. Trust me. I've tried and I've tried.

When describing grief to a friend, I said it feels so much like fear, echoing the sentiments of the writer C.S. Lewis. The only way I can describe it is by comparing it to a time when one of my kids went missing. Granted, David is my younger brother, not my child. But maybe the feeling is the same because it's rooted in the desire to protect. Running through the house. My heart racing as I open every door. My mind floods—what do I do? Who should I call? What if something has happened? Then I find my Alex. Hiding in the closet. Happy. Perfectly fine. I realize I stopped breathing. I take a breath. Grief to me feels just like that but permanent. You know you've lost something, someone and when the weight becomes too heavy your mind dampens the pain by granting you brief moments of glorious forgetting, only to throw you back into the reality head first with the very. Next. Thought. David is always the thought after the last.

My mom has said life is full of landmines. Do your best to avoid them. I've run over some potholes in my life but never this. My friend compared what our family experienced as though a bomb went off. Pieces of what was, scattered everywhere. We picked up the fragments desperate to match them back up. Slowly realizing what once was, will never be again.

And "what once was" was far from "normal" but it was ours. David struggled but then there were stretches of happiness. Separate and distinct from any darkness of the past. Not a new chapter of David’s story but rather a new story. A new beginning. We didn't dwell. With each and every new beginning, we held onto its lightness like our lives depended on it. And they did.

There was joy. Him and Steph moving into their first place together. Painting the walls, planting a garden, making it a home. There were the times spent on my patio, laughing into the night. David and Steph finding the home they loved. Feeling settled. Me calling David. Wanting him to see this beautiful engagement ring. Him pulling out all the money he had to buy it. The joy. Steph getting pregnant with Russ and the gender announcement dinner. Steph and David standing at the top of their stairs. Us opening the door to Steph wearing an “it's a boy” t-shirt. The excitement, the anticipation, the joy. His love for Russ which was instant. My husband and I staying at the hospital late into the night, to leave and come back early in morning. Opening the hospital door to two new parents who looked like they had been doing this for years. The joy. Driving to CHOP for Russ's surgery at only 1 month old. David and Steph distraught. David feeling like this was his cross to bear for the things he had done. Russ turning into an amazing little boy. David wondering what he did deserve it.

There were the ghost stories around the fire pit. The birthday parties. The over the top Christmases. The long text messages. The game nights. The joy. There was the time I watched David's eyes fill while watching the video of the birth of my daughter, Liv. He knew we waited for her. There was so much joy.

But there was struggle. More hidden than revealed. When he wasn't well, I'd learn the vague details secondhand. It left me feeling sad, confused and angry. And then I'd see him and the emotions would dissipate because all seemed fine. Addiction teaches you to be a chameleon. And I only saw what I wanted to see. I couldn't begin to understand the depths that addiction could take a person to. It was uncomfortable. It was too scary of a place to let my mind go to. And I’m trying to make peace with that. I recall one of my first thoughts when he passed was, he should have known better. Why do this when you have so much to lose? He's not a teenager for God's sake. He should have known better. How crazy that sounds to me now. Addiction quickly turns into not a choice and does not discriminate. It will embrace anyone.

Now we have a new reality, one that we are blindly feeling our way through. David's New Day was born from this new life. It allows me to say his name aloud nearly every day. A small gift many who have lost have not been given. At times, it also feels like I'm picking at the scab. But I know that pain doesn't exist without love so I continue on.

By focusing on this new endeavor, what we can do to spread the word, to grow bigger, to do better, it allows my mind to wander. I imagine David's reaction to all of this. I can hear him saying, "Really Jul?” with surprise and a bit of amusement in his voice that we chose to be so open and take this on. If he wasn't in Heaven, he'd be right here. He might have even been the one to speak at our 5K. An audience didn't scare him. But if HE were here, WE wouldn't be. And I try not to torture myself anymore by wishing for time in reverse. We are where we are. And now, we are who we are. And I like to believe that one day I will sit down with David and tell him all about this and he'll respond, "I already know."

David, our hearts hurt today and every day. We miss you and we love you.

My brother, my best friend, was an avid fisherman and a star lacrosse player. He was truly one of the most selfless people I knew. He would do anything for others and was always there for me and my boys.
He started his battle with addiction in college when he had some lacrosse injuries. He was introduced to prescription pills.
My father and brother both passed away nine months apart, and Dallas was never the same, it broke his heart and he self-medicated his depression and anxiety with pills and alcohol.
He tried several times to kick his addiction but told me he liked himself better when he was high, which broke my heart.
When I begged him to go to rehab he told me he was ok and not to worry. I wanted to believe him.
He passed away in March of an overdose of prescription opiates, along with Xanax and fentanyl.
He will be missed every second of every day for the rest of my life! We love you Dally!

Shane struggled with depression from very early on.  He was always extremely intelligent, socially awkward but funny and kind.  Everyone who knew Shane would say that he was always there to lend a hand to anyone in need, even if he had to sacrifice his own health and welfare to help them.  He was an extremely talented guitar player who played to soothe his anxiety.  He was the epitome of the tortured artist.  He used drugs to numb the pain from depression and anxiety and to feel "normal" as he described it.  His humor was edgy (he loved George Carlin) and he hated the rules.  He tried to live outside the box although society kept trying to push him back into the box.  In the end, he died in Cambodia trying to find his inner happiness and peace.  He was loved by his friends and family more than he knew.  Now he is free from pain!!!  Be at rest our sweet son, brother, grandson, nephew and friend!  We love you!!!

My name is Chris, and I am a mom.....just a mom. Never in my life did I think I would be the mom of a heroin addict, let alone think I would lose a child to addiction. It is the most heart wrenching thing a person can experience, and I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. Brothers turn into an only child, a mothers heart is torn in half, and a brilliant child is lost to a world full of unknowns. Addiction effects the entire family, has no bounderies, and does not care where you are, how much money you make, the morals you were raised with, or the social circles you embrace. Addiction does not discriminate. Matthew was brilliant. He received an academic achievement award signed by President Bush, was a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, played piano, violin, keyboard, and the electric guitar...tested into the gifted and talented program by the 2nd grade, and was on the President's Honor Roll through most of his High School years. The most caring and loving individual I have ever known......and addicted to heroin. Addiction is an illness that we must face head on, and fight like hell to conquer......and hope to save one more life. Every Person Initiates Change...let's get it started right here.

Addiction ripped my son away from life. He started using prescription pills in high school. Then the year after high school, 2009, he was introduced to heroine and I don't need to say anymore. The 6 months prior to his passing, Erik had overdosed 5 times. He finally succumbed to a lethal dose of fentanyl. Prior to that, Erik had always had a way of bouncing back and cheating death time and time again, and no matter how bad things seemed, we always held out hope that one day he would do what he needed to do to overcome his addictions. He was a very talented singer and songwriter. He was loved by his family. He was a son, a grandson and most importantly, a big brother. He is so deeply missed by his sister and brother, and me, his mom. This loss is devastating.

Erik's legacy is that of a very talented singer and songwriter. He wrote and recorded three albums in his short life. He was in the middle of recording his vocals on his third album with his band Kue the Sun when he passed. His brother and his friends in the band are working on completing his third and final album. A few of his final songs are about his struggles and torment of shattered relationships. But most of his music is so good that it could have been on the radio. I struggle every day with knowing that Erik's addictions prevented him from being the man and the musician that he had the potential to be but just never had best options available to him to get better.

Erik left behind so many incredible memories, and so much great music. Every time he opened his mouth to sing anything, whether he was freestyling over one of his band's riffs, showing them a new thing he came up with, or even singing in the car to a song he liked, he'd have you in a complete trance. Music was his passion and he really was a gifted and talented songwriter. And, if I may say so myself, he was very very handsome. He could have been anything he wanted to be. And that is the sad reality of what this opioid epidemic is taking from this world. A generation of gifted and talented young adults who could have contributed to this world but instead leave behind loved ones who are shattered in grief.

How can simple words describe sorrow? With the passing of each day, our anguish may ease ever so slightly but the magnitude is such that we may never truly be at peace. A peak to high, a cloud too wispy and an ocean too deep.

However, our marriage was strong, now stronger; our family was tight, now tighter; our friends and our entire families were always there, are now here.

We see and sense Jack each day in different ways. A blue jay, a cool breeze, a stranger's laugh in the street, a fond memory or just an invisible touch. We wholeheartedly believe that Jack is in Heaven and his eternity is now a mission of a guardian for his family and friends, as he would here, offering encouragement, acts of kindness, perseverance, strength and courage. All with his wonderful laugh, voice of sympathy, an amazing wit and charming smile...This is how we see our dearest Jack... in our heart, our soul and our memory, forever.

We thank Shatterproof for all it has done and will do. The messaging is incredible and vitally important. We are now a part of this family. It is our most sincere wish that even the smallest of benefit from Jack’s memorial will offer a sliver of comfort and solace to someone in need.

Jim and Joan McMahon