A TURMOIL CALLED HOME:
My Family’s Journey Into the Hell of Addiction

My Dear Tyler… my boy, Remember, I always called you “my boy”? Sometimes I wish you were still that little boy. I would arrange play dates and cook your favorite—my mom’s spaghetti and meatballs. I would help you with your science project, be your team mom. You, Megan, and I would have our cookie parties in bed, sitting on my bed with a tray of mostly cookie dough, but some cookies, and huge glasses of milk. I wish I could go back to then. I wish you were living the life I thought—you thought—you would live. But heroin changed all that.

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