My boys were born healthy, beautiful and loved. I put my job as a nurse on hold only to work part time to be home with my son's. My oldest son was born in 1976.

Michael came along four years later on August 21, 1980. They grew up in a small suburban community playing, riding their bikes, skate boarding and doing all the things little boys like to do.

As my oldest son Paul began puberty, his body image became an obsession. He had to be "big"! His addictive behavior began with weight lifting, supplements and eventually escalated to steroid use. Soon after, "steroid rages" began.

Paul was now living in a nearby town as he began his downward spiral to the hell to addiction. Cocaine, Oxycontin then the ultimate: use of heroin. As an athlete, he was under pressure to "be the best" in his mind.

Was this the beginning? It was 2:00 am when he woke me and said, "Mom, I'm addicted to cocaine". Is that why his nose was so red and sore looking? Why didn't I realize that?

His life of rehab, recovery and relapse lasted over a 7 year period. As of this date he has been in recovery ever since a Friday night overdose. Found by an addicted friend, Paul was thrown into the shower and, through the grace of God, began to come to. He was put into his bed with a note, "You overdosed last night".

His recovery began May 1, 2004. And now, two years later, Paul remains sober...for today. It was over! He was well! But little did I realize I would be faced with the ongoing pain of living with addiction once again.

"Not my other son!" Not Michael! At fifteen years old Michael was in the bathroom in the early morning. He wouldn't reply to my plea to open the locked door. Once he finally did I saw a barely coherent person, brown vomit on the floor, and my son unable to talk to me. This was the beginning of addiction in Michael. As his mom and knowing him, I assumed this was a "stage". He was brought to the emergency room and diagnosed with alcohol intoxication, tested positive for marijuana, and sent home.

We began therapy. This is when I began to see the denial Michael was experiencing. In his mind he was "fine."

Soon after graduating high school where he participated in football, baseball and wrestling, and being the captain of two sports, he was accepted at Plymouth State and gained a position on the Plymouth State football team.

Eventually, he was suspended from college for use of alcohol and marijuana, fighting and failing his subjects. What was happening to my Michael? Another stage? Immaturity? How could "I" help my sons?

Later I learned I could help, but the final decision to surrender to their disease was ultimately up to them.

As time progressed Michael began using cocaine. I never knew, nor did I suspect this could happen to "my Michael". It just couldn't be!

Denial is an addict's and parent's worst enemy! As I continued to live in my world of denial, both of my sons continued their struggles with addiction, only to worsen.

My dreams and hopes of my sons having a healthy happy life were slowly dwindling. Now, the reality of the life of addiction was really beginning to hit home. Jail, court, lies, stealing, deceit and many unexplained questions.

What was happening? What could I do? Where did I go wrong?

As the money was slowly dwindling and there was no concrete explanation as to why my sons had no cars or no permanent jobs. I received a final call from my oldest son. After lending Michael thousands of dollars, Paul came to me with the heart breaking news. Michael was addicted to heroin.

I now knew the facts I was unable to face. Totally gripped by cocaine, oxycontin and ultimately heroin, Michael was unable to accept his addiction and his need for help. Michael entered rehabs only to walk out before he was able to rid his mind and body of the demon that taken hold of his being.

I begged them to "get better and stop". I know now that addiction just doesn't "go away". It is a chronic yet controllable disease.

In 2004 Michael stayed in rehab for the longest ever. "He was going to be fine!" It was a miracle. He was on Naltrexone and would make it. These were still my thoughts about this horrifying disease.

On May 15, 2004 the phone rang. It was a sunny Saturday morning. It was Paul. "Mom, it's Mike. It's bad". I told him to call 911, Mike will be fine. And I am on my way, don't worry, he'll be ok.

As I entered the apartment they shared for a few months I ran up to the third floor. There was a cop standing outside of Mike's room. He said "You can't go in there!" I said, "I am his mother!", as I entered Michael's bedroom, unaware that he was dead.

I saw him...he was on the floor. He was not awake. He was cold and purple. He was not breathing. "Oh, God! No, no noooooooo!" I held my youngest son's cold, lifeless body in my arms. Michael was dead. He was really dead. His cell phone was near his right hand. Was he calling me for help?

My world was shattered, my dreams gone, my heart broken. My life was over. His life was over. The world had stopped and changed forever for my son, my family, his brother and friends.

The disease of addiction took the life of my son Michael at the age of 23 from a heroin/cocaine overdose.

As of this writing, May 15,2006, it is two years since I lost my precious loving, compassionate and caring son. The pain never ends. It only softens.

Michael's life was just beginning. He had just passed thetest to join the electrical union. After his death I received a letter stating Mike had passed the firefighters' exam with a score of 93% and was placed 8th on the list in his home town.

A life so nicely beginning to pave itself towards a road of happiness and success, ended abruptly.

In February of 2005, I had the opportunity to speak about addiction to a group of high school students. I have continued my journey by speaking at high schools, churches, rehabs and public forums in an attempt to educate parents and children to the dangers of substance abuse.

As a nurse I have been taking courses about substance abuse to educate myself, once ignorant, about the disease of addiction, and sharing my knowledge with parents and students. If only one student or parent learns from my experience, I will be thankful. I will continue my efforts with the Wilmington task force and attempt to work with the local police departments and school systems.

I am different now. My world is consumed with the loss of my son Michael and worries about his brother. Losing a child took the life I once had away. It has made me a different person. A person who sees life as a fragile and precious gift.

My future, joy, happiness, and seeing my son grow into a man is no longer. The "little things" in life are now unimportant.

Written in memory of Michael DiGiantommaso 8/21/80-5/15/04
by Carol DiGiantommaso

"Just for Fun", written by Paul DiGiantomasso