Losing My Best Friend to Opiods

On October 6, 2019, My life changed forever. I lost the only person in the world that knew me better than I knew myself. She was my right hand, and I was her left. She could make me laugh just by staring at me, and she kept the tea about the streets.

The first time I met her, she was five, I was six. Her church was a visiting church at our church anniversary. I remember seeing this melanin beauty, with long beautiful hair, run around the church, and she was never fearful to frolic with the boys. She would sport the prettiest dresses, but dirt would jump on her. She was refreshing and full of adventure. While watching her be the little girl she was, she taught me so much about being a little girl as well.

She was my best friend and soul mate, for I truly believe that you can have more than one soul mate.

It all started over two years ago; I should’ve seen the signs. Maybe I did, and I chose to ignore the warnings. I didn’t want to think that she was addicted to drugs. She would call me on our many Facetime calls and complain about going to the dentist because she had a toothache. She would brag about the medication he provided her and how it made her feel like the lower half of her body was disconnected from her head.

I noticed that she was going to the “Dentist” more often than I believe she should. She was always returning with another story as to why she decided to get “another” tooth pulled.

I noticed she had a problem when she told me she couldn’t sleep at night. She would take multiple pills to go to sleep. I asked her if she tried other tea options, taking a bath in lavender, or simply meditating. She would laugh at me and say, “that’s you, not me.”

We were the complete opposite; I was more earth, and she was a fire.

During the two-year timeframe, she told me she had multiple panic attacks, and I told her she needed to see someone. It wasn’t healthy for a single mother of 3 to go through life experiencing multiple panic attacks a week.

She never saw anyone, but she started to feed that pain with sex, men, and drugs.

She met someone who I knew from the beginning was wrong for her. The first time they met, she told me he looked grimy and transported his clothes in a shopping bag. He was fresh out of jail and an addict. I begged her to walk away, but she couldn’t. She had found someone who understood her need for drugs because I had no clue she was even addicted.

He told her she was beautiful, manipulated her, abused her, fed her addiction when she wanted it, and needed it. They were codependent on each other, and the relationship was very toxic.

One day she called me on Facetime after not talking for a couple of months, and I remember staring at the phone like she was a complete ghost. Her skin was ashy black, her hair was cut short into a fro, and her clothes look torn and worn.

I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was fine; she was heading to go pick up the kids from daycare, but she needed to vent to me about him. I was used to these venting sessions, and I knew this would be like the others. He was manipulating her to believe she was a horrible person because she wanted to provide for her kids. He wanted her all to himself because he had no job, and she was his connection to his next high.

When she finished venting, I looked into her eyes and started crying. We never cried to each other because it was awkward. We hated affection.

I begged her to consider her kids and what it would do to them if something happened to her. She cried as well, but not a weeping cry. More of a cry of embarrassment because she knew what I was saying was true. I told her that he would either kill her, she would end up in jail, or she would lose her kids.

He ended up doing 2 of those things. October 6, 2019. I got a phone call at 6 in the morning from her sister telling me that she had passed away from an overdose. I still remember screaming and just crying to the top of my lungs. I hadn’t talked to her in over three months because I couldn’t watch her suffer anymore. I told her sister that it would be because of him, her boyfriend, if she were dead.

Nothing was ever done to him. He took the one thing that I loved, and he still gets to post on all of his social media accounts. Live a life full of second, third, fourth, and fifth chances.

I hope if you’re reading this, you understand the signs of an addict. I never knew anyone on drugs, so I missed my mark and her crying out for help. If only I were more attentive to her needs, maybe I could’ve saved her from her demise.

I miss her every day, and my life will never be the same.