My Family

Normal being what a person is accustomed to, then my family is normal. My parents have been married for 43 years. Dad is a musician, mom is a housewife. They had 4 children. Mom and Dad never smoked, didn't drink

other than socially, and never did drugs. We live in a small, midwestern town and apart from minor things that

happen in all families, we were happy. Myself and my 2 brothers and 1 sister were all teenagers in the '70s, and although my parents talked to us about drugs, we each had to find out on our own. My sister and I survived

it not too much worse for the wear, and definitely a little wiser, but our brother's outcome was much different.

Robert was 27 years old, married once, divorced with 4 children, and married again with one child. He was a

happy guy with a smile that lit the whole world. He was not an academic person, but he was a very good auto

body man. The finest thing about him was his compassion for weak or suffering things, be it man or beast.

He had his faults as all of us do, but he didn't deserve to lose his life the way he did. On a hot summer night in

1988, I got the call about midnight. It was my grandma, who was slightly incapacitated because of a stroke,

and she was saying that Rob was dead. I just prayed that it wasn't true and that she was just confused as

I searched for my keys to go find out. I couldn't reach anyone at my parents house. Dad was at work and mom

was with her parents and brothers on a trip that had been planned for months. I don't remember

what time it was when Dad finally drove in , but I knew the minute that I saw his face, that it was true. It was

2 days before mom got home, and when they drove in, mom stepped out of the car, and instead of a happy

homecoming from a happy time, this is the news that mom got. I would give any part of my body, to have never

seen my parents go through that. As it turns out, the morning of his death, he had injected some meth. The day

wore on, there was some minor incident involving a fender bender, and Rob's mood took a downward spiral from the euphoria to a state of paranoia. By that evening he had the rifle spouting off things like you won't have to worry about it anymore. The paper said suicide by a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Technically, I suppose that

is correct, but I know that this would have never happened if meth hadn't been a factor. My youngest brother is

still battling this problem with meth. My sister and I are forever bound to this empty spot that we carry for Rob's absence and our living brothers' chances of beating this thing would have been much better, had Rob lived. This is not a consideration though, so we will continue the struggle with him as long as there is life in his body.

The hardest part of it all is knowing where it will end if he loses the war. All you can do is keep throwing life lines, telling them that you love them and that there is a better life for them without the meth, praying for them,

not standing in judgement of them, but at the same time letting them know that you can't financially support

this abuse of themselves, and taking every good day you get, and enjoying it to it's fullest. I can't begin to explain the incredible sense of loss my family still feels due to Rob's death, but I can tell you that if you or a

family member are dealing with an addiction to meth, keep trying, don't give up. Take whatever measures

are neccesary, no matter how drastic, to get away from this life threatening drug.


	Truth about Meth \| home All About... \| My Family \| Hope \| Help \| Love \| Favorite Links \| Contact Me \| Other \| Christian Support \| Christian Support My Family Normal being what a person is accustomed to, then my family is normal. My parents have been married for 43 years. Dad is a musician, mom is a housewife. They had 4 children. Mom and Dad never smoked, didn't drink other than socially, and never did drugs. We live in a small, midwestern town and apart from minor things that happen in all families, we were happy. Myself and my 2 brothers and 1 sister were all teenagers in the '70s, and although my parents talked to us about drugs, we each had to find out on our own. My sister and I survived it not too much worse for the wear, and definitely a little wiser, but our brother's outcome was much different. Robert was 27 years old, married once, divorced with 4 children, and married again with one child. He was a happy guy with a smile that lit the whole world. He was not an academic person, but he was a very good auto body man. The finest thing about him was his compassion for weak or suffering things, be it man or beast. He had his faults as all of us do, but he didn't deserve to lose his life the way he did. On a hot summer night in 1988, I got the call about midnight. It was my grandma, who was slightly incapacitated because of a stroke, and she was saying that Rob was dead. I just prayed that it wasn't true and that she was just confused as I searched for my keys to go find out. I couldn't reach anyone at my parents house. Dad was at work and mom was with her parents and brothers on a trip that had been planned for months. I don't remember what time it was when Dad finally drove in , but I knew the minute that I saw his face, that it was true. It was 2 days before mom got home, and when they drove in, mom stepped out of the car, and instead of a happy homecoming from a happy time, this is the news that mom got. I would give any part of my body, to have never seen my parents go through that. As it turns out, the morning of his death, he had injected some meth. The day wore on, there was some minor incident involving a fender bender, and Rob's mood took a downward spiral from the euphoria to a state of paranoia. By that evening he had the rifle spouting off things like you won't have to worry about it anymore. The paper said suicide by a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Technically, I suppose that is correct, but I know that this would have never happened if meth hadn't been a factor. My youngest brother is still battling this problem with meth. My sister and I are forever bound to this empty spot that we carry for Rob's absence and our living brothers' chances of beating this thing would have been much better, had Rob lived. This is not a consideration though, so we will continue the struggle with him as long as there is life in his body. The hardest part of it all is knowing where it will end if he loses the war. All you can do is keep throwing life lines, telling them that you love them and that there is a better life for them without the meth, praying for them, not standing in judgement of them, but at the same time letting them know that you can't financially support this abuse of themselves, and taking every good day you get, and enjoying it to it's fullest. I can't begin to explain the incredible sense of loss my family still feels due to Rob's death, but I can tell you that if you or a family member are dealing with an addiction to meth, keep trying, don't give up. Take whatever measures are neccesary, no matter how drastic, to get away from this life threatening drug.