S was a health care professional who got addicted to drugs, went through rehab, went back to work, stole some more drugs, and then died while using them. His ex-wife, who still loved him, found him. His young kids are hurting so bad.
T was my brother's co-worker. Last Thursday, his wife was telling him he had go to rehab. He said, "I know a way to fix it right now" and put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Right in front of her.
There were a lot of drugs in my high school. At my most recent reunion, one-third of the guys had been to rehab and one-third needed to go. It's not so cute and fun when you are in your forties.
And there were the people who didn't show up at the reunion. Like D, who was the funniest guy in school. Even the teachers would laugh when they kicked him out of class for something he said. His brother tells me that his last stint at rehab seems to be working. It was something like his seventh.
Or another T, who finally got clean, then for whatever reason scored some more coke, but it was way too much for his heart. He died clutching the legs of a passerby who tried to save him, begging, "Help me, Jesus!"
I'm sure none of these people thought it would turn out that way. And I don't know why some people can experiment, move on, and not get in any trouble. I just hate to think of all the wasted lives, all the tears, all the pain.