The National Addiction Memorial honors the loved ones we’ve lost.

Nicholas was a loving father, brother, and son. He was struggling with drugs, alcohol, and depression for a very long time. He was a strong fighter in this battle but unfortunately did not win the war and was taken from us on December 30th, 2018. I truly believe that he wanted to get better and change his life around, especially for his children, but addiction had a tight grip on him. No matter how hard he tried and would make small progressions, addiction always seemed to have the upper hand. People should not remember him for his addiction for he was so much more than that and that did not define who he truly was.
Nicholas was the oldest of four children. He was a very funny, goofy, outgoing individual, making everyone he crossed paths with laugh. He was an outdoorsy man who loved to fish and hunt. He definitely had his head up in the clouds all the time being a tree worker.
Nicholas' two children will carry his personality on in life by having his ridiculous dance moves, loud laugh, and big smile. The one thing that people will remember him most by would be his infamous line "You don't say that". No matter where the conversation would go, if he said that line you could not help but burst out laughing. Nicholas was memorable for his random sayings.
Remember Nicholas, you are loved bigger than the stars and the moon, forever and always.

Megan was an amazing young woman. Addiction never defined her. She was always helpful and kind to everyone she knew. People remember that she was nice to them. One of her teachers from high school came to her funeral and she said she remembered that Megan was nice to everyone.

Megan was the youngest of four. She was an easygoing, independent child. At 14, she started drinking alcohol and experimenting with marijuana. The friends she chose to hang out with really influenced her choices. She was making choices that would end her life at the early age at 22.

Megan was an excellent waitress and she worked at quite a few restaurants. Megan was a charming storyteller. She was very good at diverting your attention from direct questions by telling one of her stories. People laughed at Megan's stories...and people remember Megan's signature laugh.

She started using pain medications at 19 and became addicted. Only no one tells you they are addicted. People believe they can handle their addiction. "I've got this!" she used to say. Unfortunately, addiction had control.

On November 2, 2013, I spent the entire day with both her and her boyfriend, Allen. I never noticed either one of them doing any drugs. Both Megan and I left at 4:30 pm. I went to my house and Megan went to work. Before 7 pm, Allen died from a drug overdose after snorting Percocet three times that day. Megan got out of work at 8 and tried calling Allen four times. He never picked up the phone. She stopped to get Taco Bell and drove home. She saw police cars at the end of the block. She arrived at the house to see one of Allen's friends in the driveway. Ten minutes later, a police officer came out and told them that Allen didn't make it.

After Allen's death, two of his friends introduced Megan to heroin. It's cheaper and more accessible than pain pills and contains the exact same ingredient: opium. She begged me to help her detox five months after Allen's death. I paid $7,800 for her to go to a 4-day rapid detox in Detroit. No doctor told her she'd get sick and that's what she was trying to avoid. She ended up not being able to eat or drink anything. She checked herself into a hospital once she arrived back home and that's when she was diagnosed with pancreatitis. It's also when I found out she was addicted to heroin.

Three days later, when she was checking out of the hospital, two police officers arrested her and took her to jail. She was charged with four felony counts involving heroin. The DA set her bail at $10,000 and told her she was facing 50 years in prison.

I hired an attorney to represent her in her best interests, except he lied to us several times. By the time she was sentenced, she received four years probation and 36 months stayed and imposed prison sentence. We asked the judge to allow her to participate in inpatient treatment that my insurance would have paid for. He said no. We asked him to change his mind. He still said no and that the time for treatment was when Megan was a teen. That's a fallacy. The time for treatment is when you want treatment.

Four months into Megan's sentence, she relapsed, overdosed, and died. I have been very open from the beginning about Megan's struggles and her death. I go to high schools, colleges, and to treatment facilities to share Megan's story. I'm hoping to prevent other young people from walking her journey and to prevent other families from walking my forever loss journey.

The stigmas of addiction are really discrimination against people with addiction and mental health issues. These have to end sooner rather than later. We are losing way too many people to the disease of addiction.

We miss Megan every single day. She was greatly loved and forever remembered by her family and friends.

Saying goodbye to my son is the single most difficult thing I have ever had to do. Chris struggled with addiction and depression for more years than not. He was gifted with so much intelligence and wit and compassion. With every new start, his deepest desire was to maintain sobriety so he could reconnect with everyone he loved, and he loved his family fiercely. He reveled in bringing a smile to everyone's face, be it family, friends, or others. He used his incredible gift of humor to cover some of his darkest days, from himself and others. I've lost count of the times that treatment and rehab were completed in a system that was not prepared to deal adequately with addiction. Paths taken and opportunities lost, he fought repeatedly to overcome but could not achieve the freedom from the disease of addiction and depression that he craved so much. My deepest sorrow is for HIS loss, a profound sadness that his life was so difficult these past few years, when consequences and complications left him in constant emotional and physical pain, inconsolable and defeated. He will be in ours hearts and thoughts always.

On Tuesday December 25th, William Pickering Jones III, of Darien, Connecticut, lost his battle and passed away at the age of 27.

William was born on December 12th, 1991, to William P. Jones Jr. and Elizabeth Higgins Jones (Betsy and Bill) in Greenwich, Connecticut. He was the beloved big brother of Julia, Catherine, and Elizabeth Jones. He was the grandson of late Dr. and Mrs. H.P. Higgins of Toronto, Canada, and the late Mr. and Mrs. William P. Jones of Darien, Connecticut. William was part of a large and loving family and will be dearly missed by his many aunts, uncles, and 36 cousins.

William was a second-year law student at Fordham University, and received his BA from McGill University, Canada.

He had a beautiful mind and was passionate about everything he did, whether it was his work on legal initiatives, or just making his little sisters a new music playlist. William was loving and compassionate to his family and friends, but also to anyone he met. He was truly one of a kind and will be dearly missed by those who were lucky enough to know him.

School was a struggle for Paul and was an arena in which he didn't experience much self-satisfaction. Capable of higher level reasoning than he was able to verbalize due to a language impairment, he was underestimated both in and out of school. Isolated by his social awkwardness, Paul longed for greater human connection and took to writing poetry as a means of self-expression, something he started in his teenage years and continued for the rest of his life.

Mostly shy and withdrawn by nature, as Paul matured and began to push back and express his frustration, he was identified as having a mental illness, was misdiagnosed and over-medicated—something that took years and sound professional support to overcome.

While loved at home, Paul was often vulnerable to mistreatment, exacerbating his feelings of inadequacy. By his early 20s, Paul found needed comfort and relief in self-medicating, leading him into the world of street drugs and the pure hell of addiction. From jail cells to ineffective rehabs, both of which inflicted shame, Paul was exploited, humiliated, and punished. Even so, Paul fought hard to overcome his dependency and managed some successes with long stretches of sobriety. I admired his grit and determination particularly in light of his lack of skills and uphill battle to find employment.

Paul's last relapse occurred when he was 34, a year in which he finally had job he loved and his first apartment, both aspects of his life in which he took genuine pride. Fearing the loss of all he'd gained, he took himself to the ER in our local hospital. From there he was sent to a behavioral health hospital, where his stay would be limited to two weeks and where they would seek a follow-up program. One week into his allowed time in the behavioral health hospital, Paul was caught smoking a cigarette in the bathroom and immediately dismissed and sent home. We were both disappointed but he told me he was going to look on the bright side, "I can return to my job and, if we can find Suboxone, I can fight this on my own." I started making phone calls and had struck out, but not given up, when he overdosed and died. I did not know that after a week in treatment, he was more vulnerable to dying. Nor did I know that it's much easier to get street drugs than Suboxone. Tragic.

I miss him everyday. His apartment was around the corner from me and we spent a lot of time together. He was the happiest he'd been in a long time. He wanted to live.

Marissa was a beautiful young lady. As a child, she had such a love for life. She was giving to a fault.
Marissa was born a twin in 1988 along with her twin brother, Scott. What a special gift it is to be a twin. Marissa was the outgoing one. She always had friends and was involved in so many activities as a child. She always loved school and hoped to become a teacher like her mom.
So where did the Marissa we all know and love disappear to? At the vulnerable age of 14, Marissa began high school. Up to this point she had been such a happy child. But high school would prove to be different for her. Unfortunately, our middle school splits into three separate high schools. Marissa lost so many friends to the other schools. She became lonely and a bit isolated.
Marissa began looking for attention from boys and this was where she began to find negative influences. Because her self esteem had plunged, she chose boys who treated her poorly.
We first noticed Marissa was losing a lot of weight, which she didn’t need to do since she was very tall and thin. She was diagnosed borderline anorexic. At this same time, she was refusing to get involved in activities, which was very unlike her.
Marissa began smoking and most likely was using pot by her sophomore year. In addition, she was diagnosed with scoliosis. This began giving her back pains and she was prescribed pain meds to relieve the pain. We believe the use of the pain meds was the beginning of the end for our lovely daughter.
As high school ended and she worked and attended a local college, there were times when she really seemed to be doing well. But then she met a boy that would change all that. He introduced her to street drugs. Marissa became very depressed and her life was on a downhill slide.
At the age of 22, Marissa became pregnant. She was nowhere near ready for a child. Her son Haiden was born in 2010.
Because Haiden was born with a small amount of drugs in his system, he was taken away from her and given to her parents. Marissa, the loving daughter we always thought would be a wonderful mother, had very little bond with her baby. The father soon also left the picture. More depression would follow and the need to mask the sadness took over.
In 2011, Marissa was introduced to heroin. We believe she began using it in the spring and was dead of an overdose by October. She did enter rehab in September and was doing well. However, a 30-day program is too little help for a heroin addict. She died 16 hours after being released from rehab.
Today, seven years later, she is so terribly missed. Her son was 18 months old at the time of her death. He does not remember her. Her twin brother is finally moving forward with his life after all this time.
We keep Marissa’s memory alive each day by raising her smart and fun loving son. We are determined to raise him in a stable and loving home. One day we will tell him about his mother’s struggles with drugs. But for now, he knows his mother was a beautiful soul, both inside and out. He knows his mamma loved him and is watching over him as his guardian angel.

Same as introduction

As I've stated before my mother was so much more to me than just a mom. My fathers early unexpected death changed the course of our lives and our relationship in ways that have now left me with memories that are the single biggest Blessings of my Life !!!! 💗

Mollie when sober was brilliant, industrious, fearless, and quick-witted. She was a local singing and acting star in middle school, then started to slide into a deep, dark hole in high school, with mental health issues self-medicated by alcohol misuse. This kept her from success at ASU, and it drove her back to Wisconsin, where she slid into her own personal maelstrom. Sober, Mollie was a stunning beauty with a quick wit and the energy to do the work of three people. But when using, first alcohol and then, tragically, heroin in 2012,  Mollie began a decade-long descent into her own personal hell. Madison, WI, police saved her in 2014 and again in 2017, giving her more chances to overcome. Mollie was loved, and she knew it, but she always felt the need to battle and beat her addiction without others’ help, as if taking help would further stigmatize her. In late August 2018, we had one last visit with her in Maine, a place she managed to avoid heroin for long stretches. But the drug kept telling her it would help her when no one else would. She had just started on antidepressants and real therapy, and was moving towards recovery for the first time in her adult life. But she leaned on her rescue pit, Jocko, a little too much and her support system too little. In the end, the power of the stigma and the lack of intelligent treatment held her back. She died cold and alone, with her faithful Jocko at her side for 36 hours before she was found. It shocked us when we thought we could not be shocked, because like so many other addicts, she seemed to be maturing and turning an important corner. We have a hole in our family’s heart. It is a big one. 

Now we laid you down to sleep...
We pray the Lord your soul to keep...
You died before you could awake ....
We know your soul the Lord did take....
Love
Always and Forever 💔

Miss Seth everyday! He was a great person, father, son, and grandson! We miss his hugs and kisses and their is an empty chair at the table everyday! Seth was a good kid. He was very loved by daughter, parents, grandparents, and other family members! He loved his family also!

Greg was the baby of the family but taller than everyone else. He was a gentle giant with a heart for nature. He was intelligent and kind, pursuing his passion to preserve nature by enrolling in law school. Zuri, his faithful dog was his companion throughout his addiction and his time at Back to Basics, where he dedicated himself to recovery and was an inspiration for others struggling with addiction. Zuri, a piece of Greg’s heart, remains at Back to Basics giving comfort and encouragement to others trying to heal from addiction. He was thoughtful about his impact and the imprint he left on this earth and traveled to work with animals and the less fortunate in other corners of the world. He loved his family and was a loyal friend. He was one of the most naturally funny people making everyone laugh until they cried without effort. I am proud of the person that he fought to be and his family will never stop missing or loving the person that he was. A beautiful person.

Our Hayden was handsome, funny, smart, and one of the hardest working people you could meet. He suffered addiction on and off over the past six years. He had much sober time but seemed to always relapse when the weather got cold and the days got short. He was really trying hard to stay sober. Unfortunately, he tried it one more time and it was his last. Worst day of our lives. We miss him terribly every day and always will. Requiescat in Pace Hayden James Moreau.

Caine reached out about a year and a half ago asking for help with heroin. He became sober and was doing well in local counseling and recovery groups. He relapsed on June 20, 2018 and died. The drug was laced with fentanyl. He was 24. I miss my son, his laughter, his gentle spirit, his intelligent mind, his way with others, and I miss our long talks about life. I miss family time spent skiing, camping, rock climbing, and rafting. We had many adventures together. Be the change you want to see in the world- Gandhi. A quote that Caine would like for others to fulfill.

Tyler, a new father, you are missed beyond words. I love and miss you so much. We miss your sense of humor, laugh, and creative mind. I wish so much you could watch your son grow. I hope you are looking down from heaven smiling. Forever loved❤️

Our son Stephen John struggled with an addiction to opioids. We were not aware of his addiction until the last two years of his life. Stephen John tried hard to break away from his addiction and was doing great until he went back to California where he had a relapse. This happened in November 2015. Our son was working at a very good company and doing well until this trip happened. On February 4th, he was found deceased in a hotel room in our hometown. He was not found until the next day. Our hearts are shattered over his loss. We know that we will see him again one day. Our God is our strength and our salvation, and we have found strength and comfort in Him and all our family and friends who have supported us every step of the way. We love our son and will never stop loving him as long as we live.

Christopher was a singer, songwriter, graphic artist, and a complicated person. He loved family and traditions. He was easily upset and suffered from depression and anxiety. He was a great help to many friends who struggled with the same things but had difficulty controlling his own. He didn't realize what an amazing person he was. He was an adorable little boy who sang and acted in community theatre shows and did well in school. The third of three boys, he was my baby!
As an adult, Chris wanted to make an impact in the music world. He was in several bands as the lead singer songwriter and enjoyed moderate success. He taught himself to play guitar, harmonica, piano, and immersed himself in music. It was his passion. He was also a successful graphic artist who had a great gift for design. His addiction to heroin made his success fleeting. He struggled long and hard with it. Whenever he would slip back he would immediately seek help but he would always slip back. He hated that and sometimes hated himself for it and it made him difficult to understand.
He had a wicked sense of humor, dry and sometime cynical but whatever he said was accompanied by a sly smile that made you laugh. He had beautiful blue eyes and his last song he wrote was "Blue Eyed Sun" with a play on the words sun and son.
He was loving and sometimes too loving which made him hurt when others didn't love him back in the same way. He gave the most creative well thought out gifts to people. He saved and chronicled a lot of the family memories even secretly recording the entire family singing Christmas songs one year and then giving them out as Christmas gifts the next. I miss him more than I can possibly say.