When I was little, my mother gave me children's cold medicine. It tasted like syrup. I liked it. She told me, "Don't ever take more than I give you. If you do, you'll go to sleep and never wake up."
Looking back, that was a strange way to explain death to a child. I remember believing her to mean I would literally fall into an eternal slumber, a la Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, requiring some dashing prince (or in my case, princess) to come along and break the spell. I didn't understand the permanence of death; the finality of it.
I recently sifted through my FaceBook friend list, amazed at how many people I know who have passed. As I looked back, I counted more than a dozen friends and family members whom I've lost over the years. A couple were taken by tragic accidents, a couple by early onset heart disease, but the rest, every last one, died as the result of addiction.
Gone too young. Gone too soon.
The path of addiction leads one place: The Grave.
Addiction has a 100% mortality rate.
For addicts, the age of 65 is considered a "long life." Most suffer horrible, drawn-out deaths in their 40's and 50's. I've known many, many, many active alcoholics and addicts... not one of them have lived past their mid 60's.
Not. One.
To paraphrase a line from the brilliantly written "Stand By Me"... these folks ain't sick, these folks ain't sleeping, these folks are dead.
Sadly, I still have loved ones who live deep within their addiction. I have attempted to 12-Step them, to no avail. They stand in the queue to an early demise. There's nothing I can do.
For them, there will be no Prince Charming.
My focus must be on those who choose to live.
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