Michael Graydon Harris was born on October 10, 1969. My husband and I were 23 and it was the happiest day of our lives. He was the first born son and first born grandson on both sides of the family.
Michael was diagnosed with ADHD when he was 5 years old and put on Ritalin. They didn't know much about this disorder or how to treat it in those days and he couldn't take Ritalin, so he went through school without medicine. Michael was in every sport that was offered, scouts, church, camp, and was an avid reader and artist. He was so creative and very bright and had many friends. He was busy every second of every day.
When Michael was 13, he endured a traumatic event that triggered his bipolar and changed his life forever. He would not admit to this trauma and refused all help. From that day on, I rarely saw Michael smile again. Everyone thought he was just depressed. He hid from everyone his hallucinations and hearing voices, his panic disorder, and his emerging alcoholism and drug usage. He graduated from college in 1994, and his life was downhill after that.
He disappeared for 3 1/2 years and turned up in Oregon. By then he was deep into drug addiction and alcoholism and was living on the street and pretty violent at times. He had gotten into some trouble out there too and one of his friends somehow found me and arranged for us to talk. I got him home and tried to help him, but we didn't know he had biopolar until he was 34. We thought his episodes were triggered by drugs and alcohol, not the other way around.
I put him in a rehabilitation program called Teen Challenge when he was 34 and for one wonderful year, Michael was drug and alcohol free, and I seemed to have back the wonderful, sensitive, caring, loving kid I had lost so long ago. It was probably the happiest year of my life with Michael since before he endured the trauma.
When he graduated, his siblings and I put up money for an apartment with furniture, appliances, utility hook-ups, kitchen stuff, linens, and food. His brother donated and set up a computer for him. The church supplied a car for him. Michael got a job in a tool and die company, which was a huge step for him.
He lived an hour away, and I went to visit him every weekend for a long time to offer support. It wasn't long until I again smelled alcohol on his breath, and my heart sank. First he lost his apartment and then his car died, and finally, about a year after he had graduated, he lost his job. He lived with various "friends" for another 6 months and then ended up in the local mission. This mission is in a wealthy tourist town, and was nicer than the college dorm he lived in.
I continued to visit him, and he finally quit drinking, got a haircut, submitted some poetry for publication, and applied for a job at a local newspaper (they called the day he died). I went to see him on a Saturday and the next Tuesday he had a court hearing over a violation of probation. He was really afraid he was going to spend a year in jail, and he had no money, and couldn't easily have visitors (the previous time he was in jail for 90 days I couldn't get in to see him - they had only limited appointments and they were always taken). He was very claustrophobic, had a panic disorder, and had a tobacco chewing problem. He couldn't get anything without money and I couldn't send a check - they would send it back to me. I wasn't sending cash through the mail to the jail - I knew he wouldn't get it.
So the night before he was to go to court, someone in the shelter snuck in a Methadone pill stolen from his father's medicine cabinet. Michael was very nervous and this guy told Mike this pill would "relax" him. Michael took it, went to bed, not feeling well, and never woke up. The guys heard the weird breathing but didn't want to tell anyone because they knew he took a drug and he would get kicked out of the Mission if he were caught. It was February in the snow belt and he wouldn't survive if that happened. Besides, guys don't rat on guys. They now have extensive training in the mission for all new residents and staff members. They show the video from the HARMD site that I sent to them.
I got the call from the coroner the next day asking me if I knew my son was dead. That was February 13, 2007, and my whole world was turned upside down. The funeral was in my church, and over a dozen of the guys from the mission dressed up special, put together cash they didn't have of $120, piled into a bus and drove through a snow blizzard to get to Michael's funeral. A couple of them got up and talked about Michael and what a cool guy he was. Several other people got up and spoke too. There were probably 200 people at the funeral.
Michael is buried down the street and I go to his grave every day and that is my time to think about him. As long as I live, I will miss my son and wonder why it is that we are losing so many young men and women to prescription drugs. In the part of the cemetery that Michael is buried, there are more young people - mostly in their twenties - than there are older people. There are at least 3 dozen of them. I took pictures of their headstones. Some of them died in war and accidents, others by suicide, but many of them died of drug overdoses too. Why did I not realize this until my own son died?
All the effort we all, including Michael, put into getting his life together and one small legal prescription pill killed him - his life snuffed out. He had no idea that one pill could do that. I can't help but wonder what happens if a kid gets into a bottle of Methadone pills, considering one pill can kill an adult. Why are medications that are this lethal allowed on the market? Why are prescriptions for Methadone now given to people like candy, since so many have died from small doses? I just don't get it.
Michael will never be forgotten as he is always in our heart and memories
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In Loving Memory of
Mary Jo Vanicky
June 2, 1956 - July 27, 2000
I met her in May of 1998. Boy things were hectic back then, with me being in the Army full time and working on the weekends. Most women would have run from a man so busy all the time, but not her...she understood. It was in those early weeks of our courtship that I knew I would love her.
Well, the weeks soon turned into months and relationship became solid. Things were still very busy for me, but we wanted to spend as much time with each other as we could, so we decided to live together. I remember having to get up very early each morning to go to Fort Benning and she always got up with me. It didn't matter what time it was...it was time we could spend together. Going out the door every morning, the last thing I always said was "I love you".
The next spring, the Army came calling, I was going back overseas, Korea this time. I remember seeing the disappointment in her eyes when I told her. I thought, "Korea - where in the world is Korea? Wait a minute - Korea is ten thousand miles away". Neither of us wanted me to go, but as a soldier you accept these things and do the job. I was leaving in July - only four months away. If I was going, I was going as her husband and she my wife. A date was set right then - April 18, 1999. We stood together, kissed and hugged and told each other "I love you".
We flew to my hometown in Connecticut to get married. SHe had never been that far nother before, and it was an opportunity for her to meet my family and see where I grew up. We stood in a field on top of Sharon Mountain that Sunday afternoon, she looking beautiful in her wedding dress. The Justice of the Peace pronounced us Husband and Wife and I turned, kissed her and said, "I love you".
Seven months into my tour, I had to come home on emergency leave. She had been involved in an auto accident. Not her fault - some women was not paying attention and pretty much hit her head on. She was injured, so of course I flew back. I scrambled to get out of Korea and back here. Before leaving Seoul, I called to reassure her that I was on my way, everything was going to be fine and that I loved her.
Things were kind of rough on both of us during the time I was able to be back here. I had to get a new car, run to doctors appointments, sort through and try to pay bills. The Army allowed me to stay a few months, and that helped us try to catch up on things and get some things in order, but I would have to go back and serve my lst two months in Korea. I told her that everything was going to be alright - I'd do my time and be right back. I'd never have to leave her again. We'd plan my retirement from the Army and be together for the rest of our lives, I love you.
It was a long ride to the Atlanta airport that morning. I remember we really didn't say that much - some things don't need to be said. We both knew what we were feeling. I watched her walk through that busy terminal and disappear into the crowd, and I whispered " I love you".
Back in Korea I counted the days until I would come home. Before I knew it, the day had arrived - July 12th. I called her one last time from Korea - " I'm on my way Sweetie, I'll be in Columbus around 8:00 pm". "I'll see you soon, I love you".
I took a couple weeks off to get over the jet lag before I returned to the Army. We had fun planning my retirement, and talking about the things we would do and where we would live after the Army. First we had to get her well. She was still being treated for her injuties from the car accident. Sometimes in frustration because of her injuries, she would question why I even wanted to be with her. My answer was always the same - " Don't you worry about that, things take time to heal. I'm with you because I love you".
We went to bed the night of July 26th, and as always before I went to sleep I said, "Goodnight Sweetie, I love you". Sometime during the night, the Lord appeared and called her home. I often wonder if she stood with him, both of them watching me sleeping, as he told her it was her time to come to paradise, to live in his kingdom for eternity.
I don't ask for, nor do I seek anyone's sympathy. My massage to you is simple. Never reglect an opportunity to tell your family and friends how much you love them and how much it means to you that they are in your life. We never know how much time each of us have on this earth. As my brother told me the day of my wife's funeral. " God only gives us so many heartbeats, and once we've used them all up we can't ask for any more". Keep the Lord in your life today and everyday, and through yourself, spread his love to your family and friends.
You can find me out at Parkhill Cemetery every morning now about 8:00 am. I go there to tend to her graveside and talk to her. I know she watches over me and will always guide me through the rest of my life, until we see each other again. And everyday as I turn to leave her grave, I tell her now in death the same thing I told her so many times in life - "I love you".
Ed Vanicky
Killed by OxyContin and the Doctor who gave it to her.
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In Loving Memory of
LJ Cunningham
May 14, 1983 - May 20, 2008
He was a 25 year old, young man full of life with hopes and dreams of his future. He loved to play basketball , and guitar. L.J was my first born son. died from an overdose of methadone ,xanaax , and somas all prescribed by his doctor ,,,My world stopped revolving at that point . I wondered how could this happen. I have no idea, His death could have been prevented. ,,I am still waiting for justice . I find that what I say about losing my son changes with the stage of grief i am in. It's been four months now and still yet it seems like yesterday. However I am going through so much pain and greif, My feelings go out to all you mothers who have lost your child to this drug .I continued to read the stories on the website and see the pictures it all became very clear. When will this stop ? How many children do we have to lose before something is done ? We as parents have tried to protect our children all their lives and now a dollar bill has become more important than saving lives. My only wish is for this drug to be taken off of the market where no one will ever have to endure the pain that my family and I are going through. L.J just starting off his life, GONE. Is it worth it ? I can only pray that God will intervine and this drug be taken off the Market. I am sure that until the company who is puting this killer out there loses their child or loved ones then they will intervine, However' I do believe That God will bring justice And the BLOOD will be on their hands ,My heart is broken and all I am left with is a hole where my heart used to be.The last words from my son were "I love you mom". Is this drug really worth it ?
Trudy Jones (LJ's Mom)
I Love You so much David. I miss you so much! I am so sorry that you died so young. Only 44 years old. I cannot believe that I will never see you again on this earth.
My brother David was found dead on February 22, 2009 alone in his little apartment. He was found on his 44th birthday. He actually died on February 21, 2009 on my 40th birthday. My parents were throwing me a surprise 40th birthday party on February 22, 2009. The police showed up at the end of the party to inform us why my brother did not show up for my party. I will never forget those words "Mr and Mrs Shimandle I am so sorry to inform you that your son David Shimandle was found dead today in his apartment".
We later found that David died from Fentanyl toxicity. A drug that was prescribed to him by his doctor along with vicodin. Our lives have been forever changed, for now we are just in shock. We can not even begin to realize David is no longer here with us as our hearts have been ripped apart with devastation.