Hope....

....I had you at the doctor's office in Fall....I remember you exhibiting uncertainty about the college program you'd entered (I was worried about depression)...you were feeling you made the wrong choice...I remember Dr. Smith talking with you, doing labs and telling me, as I agreed, that perhaps you just needed to focus on a job now and then go back to school when you felt YOU were ready...so you took that Fall/Winter semester off...and you secured the job at Split Rock...and took on that role with enthusiasm...there was no indication then that you had a problem with drugs...none...because you died of an accidental drug overdose, there will always be "some" who question...how long did this go on? Did we miss something? How I wished I'd found a syringe before all of this had happened...how I wish I'd had the knowledge to help my son...the time frame seems short...and the few who "sort of knew" you began dabbling...said "he didn't want you or Teddy to know"....Ted and I look back repeatedly on what sign we could have seen...although we did work opposite shifts often...and our lives only intermingled briefly each day when you went on 3-11 shifts...oftentimes, we'd be asleep when you got in...and as we left for our early days...you'd be sleeping in...I miss seeing you sleep... my "sleepyhead" and all of those close to you knew that...even while in the two a day practices for football,you could easily find rest upon a wooden bench...Early February one day...your eyes looked funny and of course I questioned you...and you smiled and automatically replied I was with so and so, who was home from college and they had a little pot...and guess what...I believed you...you see, you told me something (not that I wanted you to smoke pot, but you provided me with an answer)...and most kids wouldn't even answer a question like that...so of course that diverted any further thinking of anything else...I didn't know of heroin...and the stuff I read about didn't happen in small towns likes ours...at least until now...and last night, a lady at the group told me her husband is in jail for his heroin addiction and all the pain and crime it caused her family...the repeated admissions to rehab, our story is far different...she has a long road ahead of her, too...I've spoken to your doctor after all of this...and again, no signs were there in the Fall...and those close to you, Adam.... saw nothing...I hope that you never felt badly about yourself...I hope you never felt like we were ashamed of you....I hope that you weren't depressed and sad until you became so weak you accepted the drug dealer's hand....I hope....I hope...I hope...