Was It Worth It?
Young people, before you use that drug, please take a trip with me in your mind…
Close your eyes.
Imagine that you’ve decided to try prescription pain pills. They are left over from when you had surgery. You’re looking for a thrill, and all your friends are using them, so why not? You take that first pill. And more after that. You love the way they make you feel, and it’s a fun way to party with all your friends, right? You think they make everything better and more fun. They are great!
Now jump ahead 6 months. The pills seemed like great fun for a while, but you are finding that you need more pills to get the same high. They are so expensive you really don’t have any way to pay all that money for them. What can you do? A “friend” tells you about heroin…the same high—better even—only cheaper. He’ll even let you try it for free! Now, you would never put a needle in your arm, so you snort it. Wow, what a great high, you think…for a while.
Now jump ahead a little more. Snorting just isn’t cutting it anymore. You need more to get the same buzz, and your “friend” tells you to try smoking it…you get a great rush, he says. So you do. After all, it’s not putting a needle in your arm. And you agree, you get a great rush from smoking. But something happens along the way, and you’re starting to feel kind of sick if you don’t regularly chase the dragon. You need still more to get the same rush. It’s losing its effect. You don’t want to lose that rush, so you take that next step and inject “just this one time.” The effect is amazing. You’ve never felt such bliss, and you can’t wait to do it again. And so it goes until you have become a full-fledged intravenous drug user.
One day, while your parents are at work, you shoot up in your room, but the dose you shot up was too strong, and it kills you. Several hours later, your mom comes up to check on you. She sees you on the bed and calls out to you but you don’t answer. So she walks over toward you and notices there’s something funny about the way your legs are crossed while you are lying on the edge of the bed. She taps you on the shoulder and calls your name. To her horror, you are cold and when you roll on your side just a bit from the tap on the shoulder, she sees that your face is blue. Her blood turns cold. She goes into instant shock and disbelief. She races downstairs and calls your dad to tell him she thinks you’re dead. She calls 911. Soon the house is swarming with police cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance. After a few hours your mom and dad watch in shock as they take you away in a body bag for an autopsy at the morgue. It’s required when someone overdoses.
A couple days later they get to see you for the first time since your passing. Your mom’s knees want to give out as she walks into the funeral home and into the room where you are in your casket. Your dad has to support her. As she sees you, she is devastated to realize that you are just a body. Your life force is gone. The “you” is gone. They go home to cry the night away—again. The next day they stand in the funeral home for several hours as their friends, your friends, and all loved ones come to say goodbye and see you one last time. They, too, are in shock. Some of your old teachers are there, and they are crying. All your friends are crying and hugging each other. Then your parents go home exhausted and cry the night away, knowing that tomorrow they must say goodbye to you forever.
It’s the morning of your funeral, and your parents get dressed in a fog. They go to the funeral home to see you one last time. Your mom runs her fingers through your hair and hugs you as best she can in your coffin. She stands there memorizing your face because that memory will have to last her the rest of her life. She and your dad put some special trinkets in your casket and let them close the lid. Your mom’s heart is shattering into a million pieces. Then they go outside and watch as your casket is loaded into the hearse, and they are thinking this simply cannot be real. They follow you to the church. Your mom and dad walk slowly behind as you, heads down, as you are carried to the front of the church. Your funeral is lovely, all your friends are there. Your parents sit in the front row, numb with grief, unable to think, unable to cry. Beautiful words are said about you. You were the light of your parents and friends’ lives, and their words reflect just how loved you were. Everyone thinks about what might have been. Then off to the cemetery for a few more words, and everyone leaves. You are then buried, back to the earth once more. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Your parents’ grief goes on and on. Your mom has flashbacks of finding you. They never get over your death. They loved you so much, how could they? They try as best they can to go on and make a good life, and sometimes they even feel happy. But your shining presence, now gone, leaves a hole that can never be filled. Your struggle is over, and they are happy for that. Theirs will continue as long as they live.
Now open your eyes.
I have just told you the story of my beautiful son and myself. Are you sure you want to try those drugs? If you think drugs are fun, please first ask my son “Was it worth dying for?”