What's Your Story? Submitted Stories
Didn't Plan on Dying
What mother ever thinks that her beautiful 28 year old is going to die from a drug overdose?
Jennifer was a soul with two sides. On one side, she was a college graduate, with a good job in advertising and PR. She dreamed about getting married and having a family. Jennifer was also a rebel in conflict, her other side, got into the seedy Hollywood scene, earning extra money for college as an exotic dancer. She was strong-willed, independent, and had her own way of doing things. She drifted into a life that took hold of her and would not let go. She tried so hard to break away, but in the end, she lost the battle.
Jennifer was a star that came to us on May 14, 1977. She was a beautiful child with curly hair that sparkled in the sun. From grade school and all the way until high school, Jennifer flew through the air as a gymnast. Her favorite event was the bars. Once she entered high school, she moved on to the high school’s marching band flag team and traveled the country with the team. She graduated high school with honors and went on to receive her Bachelor's degree at Loyola Marymount University.
Jennifer came from a pretty typical middle class family. She was an only child, the first granddaughter, and was both loved and spoiled. She was extremely bright and excelled in academics. Unfortunately, the disease of addiction ran on both sides of her family. Her dad and I tried to educate her about drugs and alcohol, but Jennifer started smoking marijuana and taking speed at fifteen. By sixteen, she was experimenting with speed and acid, when she suffered a seizure, it scared her so much that she quit for a while. When she got her own car, she and her friends started driving to teen clubs and rave parties. Her dad and I were not blind to her change in personality, behavior, and friends.
By her late 20’s, Jennifer had a pretty good take on herself. In her own words, “I’m very open minded and love to have fun. Being a Taurus, the stubborn bull side of me likes to rear its ugly head on occasion, but I try to contain it as much as possible. I am very confident, strong and intelligent and am one of the most realistic and reliable people you may ever meet. I have a philosophical side, although I am not religious, and love to explore the unknown. In the past my big heart and motherly nature has been a fault, but my experiences over the years has brought out of me an instinct most don’t have, to be able to judge another’s character within minutes of meeting them and often just by a first glance. I choose to surround myself with only quality people who are true in their word, honest, and reliable and can easily determine those things immediately no matter who it is. If you are fake, unreliable, dishonest, disrespectful, or like to take advantage and abuse others, don’t bother contacting me. As I am a truly good natured person, I expect the same from those I call “friends.” I know pain, I know suffering, I now hard work, struggle, disappointment, and fulfillment. At different points in my life I have been at my very worst and at my very best, I have experienced pure hatred and pure love, pure good and pure bad. I believe am a very well-rounded person that I can open other’s minds to so many ideas and possibilities they never imagined. I only wish for the same.”
Jennifer always felt that she had her drug addiction under control, even if the others around her lost their control. She woke up one morning to find her roommate dead on the couch from a heroin overdose. At the time, she said, "Mom, you will never have to worry about me doing that. It won’t happen to me."
Jennifer spent her last eight years trying to end her heroin addiction in a methadone program. Despite her participation in this program, she was terrified of being clean and actually feeling her emotions without drugs acting as a buffer. As a mother, what do you say? You are desperate to help your daughter. You are terrified that something awful might happen. You try to convince her to speak to the counselors at the clinic. You pay for her to go into rehab twice and both time she walks out. I used to call her every day and jokingly say, “I'm calling to make sure you are okay and alive today.” She would laugh.
Jennifer and I were best friends. She would tell me everything. There were times when I really just didn't want to know. I may not have liked what she was telling me, but I always made sure that I ended each and every conversation with “I love you.” Since her death, it’s brought me some comfort to remember that those were the last words between us.
About six months before she died, Jennifer started drinking. She talked herself into thinking that it would be easier to substitute alcohol for heroin and then get off alcohol. An addict’s logic! Obviously, I questioned this approach. But when your child is 28, you can only say your peace and watch helplessly as your child does whatever they are going to do. Adding alcohol to the mix set Jennifer on a downhill spiral from which she never recovered. She was taking methadone for her heroin addiction, but still slipping in heroin once in a while along with the alcohol she had now added to the equation.
Her last evening in November of 2005 was spent drinking and having that one last high on heroin. She didn't plan on dying that night. She just wanted to get high. The next morning I got a phone call from the hospital – the call every parent dreads. They told me it was very, very serious. When you work at a hospital for 20 years, you know what they are saying. I asked over and over again if she is alive and all they continued to say was, “It’s very serious.”
A piece of my heart died that day. It’s left a big gaping hole. The pain was so horrible I didn't know how I would get through the day or even out of bed. I spent hours thinking about the “what ifs” and feeling guilty. Why couldn't I save my daughter? Why couldn't I help her? She had all of the tools: a loving family, a good education, and information about drugs and its dangers, but it was not enough. She had an illness that was just too hard to overcome.
As the overwhelming pain subsided and the numbness of grief replaced it, I began to reach out to parents like me who had lost children – probably the only people with whom I could relate. Through them, I learned just how widespread drug addiction is today.
Reading this excerpt from Jennifer’s MySpace page has provided me comfort in my darkest hours: “Heroes in this day and age?! If you name some stupid celebrity, or similar, as your hero you’re a fricken idiot. My heroes are my mom, dad, and Grandpa Joe. They are always there when I need them and always willing to extend themselves to accommodate me no matter what the reason or predicament I’ve got myself into. What more of a hero is there than that!”
If telling Jennifer's story can open the eyes of just one teen to its dangers, then Jennifer is still here, my bright shining star.
Sandi, California © 2006
The Brent Shapiro Foundation for Drug Awareness.
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