Dear Zach, On Your Birthday

Dear Zach,

I see you every day while I work to spread awareness, knowledge, and ways to prevent SUD from taking more lives and causing grief for so many people. Zach, my son, although your life was short, you lived it with gusto. You laughed a lot and you provided laughter for all who knew and loved you. It took my family and me a long time to recover—to some extent. It took me a long time to do what I’m doing now. You are the impetus for this road I am traveling. But I wish I did not have to take this journey. All my love will always be with you, and so will the love of your mom and sister.

Love,

Dad

I wrote this little note to Zach because I miss him so much and to let him know that people will always know his name.

While I work, he is looking at me as I look at his graduation photo. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with sadness thinking about what his path in life might have been if he hadn’t been affected by this disease. Make no mistake: THIS IS A DISEASE! It doesn’t reflect his morals or anything about his character. He was an intelligent, creative, and loving person. Who he was left an indelible mark on those who knew him. When I get sad, I look at videos and laugh out loud and feel such good vibes. It helps me go on with my work. So, in this spirit of love and admiration for who he was, I want to share this with you (in the vein of laughter), to show you this complex character.

When he was born, he looked pretty much like his sister Rachel. After a few months, his looks diverged and he became the redheaded, cute little boy that he was. I was fortunate enough to have a video camera back in the day, and I was able to capture his early years. They were filled with laughter, singing, dancing, and playing games with his sister and our good neighbor Lee, who was really Rachel’s friend. They made up their own games and played dress-up using Zach as their model. He loved it! And I loved capturing this on camera. When his cousins came to visit, it was the same show and silliness but with different characters.

When I was not teaching or coaching, I got to play with him too. Those were the moments I treasure. I loved to tickle him, and when he said stop, I would. But then he would always want more, and I was more than obliged to kiss and hug him. And of course, I would tickle him some more. He was always curious, but a little timid as a toddler. I remember that he loved to go to our neighbor’s garage, where they kept birds and other animals. He would talk to them and tell them to talk back to him. Of course, all of this is captured on video. When we went to Cape Cod on vacations, we would capture little creatures from the sea, and he would approach the bucket very cautiously. My camera was always ready to take a photo or a video.

Time passed, and he grew up too fast if you ask me. He wasn’t the best student because he was bored. He was diagnosed with ADD. Some teachers—especially the older ones—always complained. However, since we always read to the kids, he was an avid reader, even as a fifth grader. By the time he went to high school, he became interested in music, so we bought him a drum kit. He got by in high school just enough to graduate with a B+ average. He would read a lot, but too bad it wasn’t about the subjects he was supposed to read about. He always got over on many of his teachers and was always able to finish his work. It wasn’t always his best work in every subject, but in the ones he enjoyed, he did very well.

Thankfully, he graduated from high school. Instead of going to Adelphi University, where his mom worked, he decided to go to UMass. I think he went there because his mother got her doctorate in biology. After he had an injury where he blacked out for about 10 seconds, fell, and hurt his neck, he went to the infirmary. We later found out that they prescribed an opioid painkiller, and that’s where all the trouble began.

In hindsight, we understood why he didn’t do well at UMass and later enrolled at Adelphi. That didn’t go too well either, and we did not know why. We knew he smoked pot, but we just thought it was something a lot of kids experimented with. We did not know then that the drugs were masking a deeper problem in his brain. We later understood that he suffered from anxiety. After several attempts in rehabilitation, he was fine for a few months.

The week before he passed, he came to visit from Massachusetts, where he lived and was doing OK. The week after, on March 14th, we got a call from the hospital telling us to come quickly, but they wouldn’t say why. Deep down, I knew what had happened. He was on life support, and his organs were failing. We waited until the 15th to make any decisions. We had no choice, and we took him off life support.

So why am I telling you this? Because I don’t want something like this to happen to anybody—from any family. I want to tell you that you need to learn about this disease and the signs that cause it. You need to be proactive and talk to your children with respect and empathy. Wishing the problem away does not help. You can do something, but you need to know what that is.

You can read stories from others who are in your shoes.

You can share your story like we have.

You can learn more from our resources.