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

My son Chris Woodford passed away Monday August 21, 2017. He battled a terrible disease called addiction for 10 years. He fought so hard to stay sober, getting help multiple times for his addiction. But the addiction took over.
Chris had an amazing heart. Always trying to see the good in people. He could instantly make a friend because of his great personality. People gravitated to him because behind that stunning smile was a wonderful person inside. Chris was an amazing father to his daughter. He loved her so very much. Chris fought to be the best Father, Son, Brother, and Grandson he could be. He loved his family unconditionally and will be forever in our hearts. He will be missed!! He is now with Jesus resting in peace!! I love you my Son! ❤️

Steven was a troubled man. He struggled with alcoholism for almost 20 years. He will be missed not for the person he was when he was drinking, but for the great man that all of his family and friends knew him to be when he was sober. I'm writing this (Steven's 18 year old daughter) reflecting upon a similar death, the death of my mother back in 2010. She lost her battle with an opiate addiction but she is missed so greatly every single day. Addiction of any kind can destroy a family, and my family is the proof of that. The stigma surrounding addiction is one that needs to come to an end so that those suffering from addiction can get the help they need. In some cases, they may have already been offered all of the help in the world, like my father, but to understand that this is a disease does bring some comfort when we can realize that the person may have wanted to recover, but simply could not beat it. My father was not only an alcoholic; he was a father, a brother, an architect, a cat dad, avid Star Wars lover, and sarcastic asshole in the most lovable way.

Unfortunately, I am now mourning him for a second time. I mourned him once when he was lost to the addiction, and I mourn him now.

Shane loved Georgia Bulldogs, he loved to fish, his heart was his dog, Bentley. He worked in construction and was complimented on any work he ever did for anyone. Shane struggled with drugs starting at 15-16 years old. He stayed away for many years but when life's struggles came along, he turned back as his way of coping. He lost his fight and I lost my son! He is on my mind and in my heart constantly. I miss him so much!

Zack was just 13-years-old when he was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease and Ulcerative Colitis. After suffering for years, his physicians prescribed OxyContin to help him cope with the excruciating pain. After several years, Zack turned to street drugs. In 2016, Zack enrolled in, and successfully completed, a year long drug and substance abuse program. He was a model patient, helping to coach and lead other patients in the program. Just 10 days after completion, Zack ultimately succumbed to his addiction and tragically overdosed at home.

She had migraines and her doctor gave her Dilaudid, 100 pills, three prescriptions, the two times she went to see him in the last nine months. He also gave her other narcotics too. Her autopsy indicated she had been on such a high dose for so long that was what killed her. They were only able to use the cornea as all other organs were damaged. She will be sorely missed by many! Ilu

Adam had an authentic gift for inspiring others to explore, travel, and pursue their dreams. He was loved by many people, friends old and new, around the world. Adam was the beloved son of Karen Salhaney Smizer and her husband Karl of Weymouth, and Steven Salhaney and his wife Karen McDonough of Hingham. Dear brother of Sarah Duguay and her husband James, and Peter Salhaney, all of Weymouth. Beloved grandson of Louise Tucciarone of Braintree. Loving uncle of Sophie Duguay. Dear stepbrother of Nicole and Ryan McDonough, and Perry Smizer.

One of the things I take most heart from is the amount and variety of life Angus was exposed to in his time with us, a world traveler by the time he reached a double digit age, he knew most of the international terminals by heart and, in his inimitable fashion, could run rings around the unaccompanied minor staff meant to shepherd him between flights, which I know also drove his brother insane but it was like trying to tame the wind when he was younger.

He lived in multiple countries, visited even more and was exposed to opportunities and work experiences that are not readily available.

All in all, a rich life

But what we should all be most proud of is that, despite the difficulties of his disease, he was just a good person, inherently kind, a gentle giant, a lover of life.

I shared these words with friends and family at Chris's funeral. No one knew what he went through or what I went through growing up with him. I am sharing them now for anyone who is struggling or has a loved one struggling. Though it may not feel like it, know you are not alone. The time to speak up is now!

"For a long time, I wondered when this day would come. I prepared for it over and over. It's a tricky one. I am supposed to stand up here and talk about our happy memories and how much I am going to miss you. And while I will continue to miss you every day for the rest of my life, I began to miss you such a long time ago. You have struggled with life and yourself for so long. Out of all the people in this room today, the only one who didn't love you was you. This makes me so sad. You had so much to offer. You were such a beautiful soul with the biggest heart of anyone I will ever know.

But this disease took over you and I didn't even know who you were anymore. You'd come whipping through our home and hearts like a tornado, destroying everything in your path. We sacrificed so many relationships for you. We chose you over the world at least a thousand times. In the end, it just wasn't enough.

Because of this disease, you taught me a lot. You taught me how important it is not to judge others, because I didn't like when others judged us. You taught me compassion, because sometimes I needed just a little bit of it from other people. You taught me patience, because something this serious doesn't get better overnight, or sometimes at all. Most of all you taught me forgiveness, because at the end of the day I always knew you loved me. And isn't love that's supposed to conquer it all? For all you have taught me I am grateful. You have shaped me into who I am today even though I know you didn't do it the way you would have wanted to. But I am a better person because of you.

Life was never fair to you, Chris, and I am sorry for that. Sometimes just being around you was so uncomfortable I cannot imagine how you must have felt in your own body. I am so sorry you never felt true happiness without the influence of a drug.

I would wake up in the middle of the night and hear you crying and screaming in pain. I know how much you struggled, Chris, because I struggled with you. When you hurt, we all hurt. It is a pain so deep that cuts through layers we didn't even know we had. I don't know why you were picked to carry these demons and I am so sorry we couldn't kill them for you. But they won.

I am not sure that even if we had the choice to bring you back that you would even want to come. Alls you wanted was peace, and now you finally have it. I hope. You had everything you needed here, you just didn't want it badly enough to stay. I really hope you have the comfort now that we could never give you.

Often, I would describe your addiction as a dark cloud that just followed us around, because you were never in the clear. We never knew when the cloud was going to open and start pouring down. And while I never wanted this day to come, I always wanted the cloud to go away. Well on March 5, 2017 that cloud lifted, and a new one has taken its place. Maybe in time that cloud too, will lift, and we will feel you shining down on us.

I hope you know how much we love you, and how important you will always be to the world. You are a part of all of us now and I hope I can use your story to write a happy ending for someone else.

I always looked to the moon to talk to you and pray for you. And I will continue to do this, except maybe now you will be able to hear me."

We miss his smile, his wholesomeness, his beautiful heart, his positive attitude, his humbleness, his thirst to do good for mankind, and his graciousness. He made us want to be better people both then and especially now. We are forever heart-broken but truly blessed for the time we had with him. May he Rest In Peace, watch over us, and encourage us to carry on.

A talented soul has left this universe way to short due to the power of addiction. Mike (known to his sisters, and family as Mikie) struggled with addiction for decades. He was able to find support through different groups, but ultimately kept falling back to addiction no matter how hard he tried. It is a tragedy for us and all of those who knew him as he was such a warm hearted, funny, and loving person.

Kind-hearted and sharp-witted, Boe’s charismatic nature was infectious, and he invariably won over any room he ever bounded into. His friends and family will forever remember the charming boy with the crooked smile, the straight-A student too smart for his own good, the athlete who towered above just about everyone.

But they will also remember the dark path that ultimately took his life.

The painful cycle of drug addiction and the constant battle to get clean was a struggle that consumed Boe in entirety, the specter of his addictions extinguishing the bright light of this brilliant young man far too soon.

He is survived by his darling daughter Layla, best friend Katelyn Blume, mother and stepfather Beth and Dennis Tweed, brother and sister-in-law Joseph and Domenica DeLillo, grandmother Elizabeth Fitzpatrick, and a heartbroken extended family.

There is no greater tragedy than the potential of youth snuffed out before its time. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be made in Boe’s memory to www.Shatterproof.org, so that our pain can prevent another family from feeling this devastating loss.

The smell of leather and earth. The sound of large work boots. The look of a hard day’s work; messy hair, dirty hands. A chipped tooth smile that gives you a warm feeling. These are the things that remind me of my dad. He was one of those people that made you feel safe, without explicitly telling you they were always going to protect you.
On April 29, 2007, that safeness I once felt disappeared. My dad had a hard childhood and with that came a lot of demons that he kept locked away. He engaged in criminal behaviors, and had gotten in trouble with the law multiple times from a young age. His past ultimately set him up for harder obstacles when it came to doing things the right way. My dad got caught up with drugs from a young age. Six months before he passed away, he checked himself into detox saying, ‘I don’t want to be like this anymore’. From the time of his detox admission until the night of April 28th, 2007 my dad was sober. I can’t tell you what changed his mind, what pull or drive was there, or if I had even crossed his mind during that time. The last time I spoke with my dad was on the phone a couple of days prior. It was not until Sunday April 29, 2007 that I found out my direct line to my father had been cut off. My father was found in his apartment and had passed away from a drug overdose. A lethal mix of prescription medication, illegal substances, and alcohol took my father’s life. I will never be able to see, hear, or talk to my father again. I do not want this to define who he was as a person. His demons, his choices all came from a place of horror and turmoil and I can’t knock him for that. I wasn’t in his shoes. For this reason, I want my father to be remembered as the fun-loving guy that he was for me and so many others.

Everyone loves Jay. Everyone. He was beyond brilliant as a child - taught himself to read at 3; played 5 instruments and learned 5 different languages. He was a fabulous saxophone player. Jay made friends wherever he went, and always knew how to make others laugh. He was an avid reader, and knew lots about lots of subjects. He attended North Grafton Elementary School, graduated from Worcester Academy in 2007, and Brown University in 2011 with a degree in Cognitive Science.

The disease of addiction then gained control, and he tried many times to overcome it. Also on his trek, he met and helped many others who were afflicted by addiction as well. It took its final toll on Jay just one day shy of 11 months clean. He would want others to keep up their fight and stay true to themselves- give yourself over to your Higher Power. He is already missed by his family, family friends, and in the recovery world. Jay - you were such a ray of light; you'll fit right in with all the stars in the heavens.

Brett (aka "The Hulk") Reagan was - and continues to be - one of those truly rare, genuine souls. He never accepted the status quo and always wanted more for himself, which I hope he knows I greatly admire him for.

Brett was passionate about bodybuilding and general health/fitness and while he was both handsome and strong, he was also incredibly thoughtful, intelligent, caring, and gentle. He loved EDM and was drawn to anything that had to do with the galaxy. I like to picture him soaring through the cosmos, rocking out to all his favorite beats. Music is one way I have still managed to feel connected to him.

It's impossible to sum Brett up in a couple of sentences, and I won't attempt to. My family and I miss him every single second of every day. I miss our long phone conversations, being enveloped in his big bear hugs, and laughing hysterically with him about ridiculous things others probably wouldn't find funny.

He is no longer with me physically on this earth, but he is somewhere, and one day - somehow - I will find him.

Rich Medina was a fun and kind individual who is loved and missed by an immense amount of people. His memory will forever live in all of us. His story has taught us to be caring, laugh often and be brave.

We lost my beautiful brother, Phillip, on June 29, 2017. He died of an opioid overdose. He had been in recovery since November 2016.

Phillip left behind two sweet sons, Anthony and Nathan. He loved them more than anything. He also loved basketball, music, dogs, and making people laugh.

Phillip was one of the most loving and lovable people I've ever known. He had the gift of being able to talk to anyone; he put people at ease and connected with them authentically.

His loss has been unbearable, and we miss him like crazy.

May 2012. Just a week shy of me graduating high school, I was sitting in the living room with my parents when my dad suddenly started having a seizure. It was the scariest moment of my life. It was even harder to find out that it was caused by my dad's alcoholism. My dad went into rehab for the first time right out of the hospital. He missed my graduation party, and we had to sign him out of rehab just for a couple hours so he could see me walk across the stage and receive my diploma. My dad returned from rehab a changed man. He was a better dad and a better husband, but he only stayed sober for about a month. Ever since, it was a constant struggle in my life watching my dad fight his demons to stop drinking. Another hospital visit turned into another rehab stay. There was no doubt my dad tried to quit. I could see him fighting it every time we were together. He loved his family so much and I know he didn't want to lose us, but he didn't know how to live without alcohol. He finally lost his battle June 21st, 2015. He was an amazing man; an amazing father, husband, and son. From 2012 to 2015, our family struggled quite a bit. We felt like we had to hide it. Explaining to people that my dad was just sick, or that everything was just fine. But it wasn't. It wasn't until right before my dad passed that I was able to forgive him and understand that it was a disease and it wasn't his fault. I also understood that it is not something that we have to hide or be embarrassed by anymore. People are fighting this disease everyday. They need to know that we are here to help them and that they don't have to hide anymore. End the silence.