How many mothers and fathers have received that call in the night that their son or daughter was dead, died of a drug overdose in a motel room, alone, in a far away city. He was my oldest son, light of my life, fruit of my womb - wasted by alcohol and drugs, but my joy, nevertheless. His voice on the other end of the phone "Hi, Ma---", his presence during visits home, never to be again. But his earthly torment is over, and now we all must come to grips without him.
He was 43, not a child, but a man. He left no wife, no children, no earthly goods. There will be no historical record of his life here on earth, except in the hearts of his father, mother and brothers.
Vaya con Dios.
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anniversary date 07-22-97
date of post 08-03-97