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  • Elizabeth Marie

An Emotionally Challenging Task


A dear friend, a woman who I have much respect for, has asked me to write her story. She is a wonderful friend, mother, and grandmother, but she wasn’t always this way. She has come from a violent home and a very sad background, and as a younger person, was shut down and unable to function in the world.


As she said today, we don’t always know what goes on behind closed doors. I have seen behind the doors of her home now, and what I see is good. She is a testimony to the goodness of God.

She has lost a lot, but she is a light in her family and to the people around her. I am privileged to write her story.



Here is a part of her story.


Charlie was the first of my siblings to die. He’d been at a party when he began to feel unwell. So he booked himself into Fort House to detox, but he had a headache. A support person at the house asked if he wanted to see a doctor?

But ever stoical, Charlie refused, thinking it would pass. Instead, he had a seizure.


The next thing I knew was that I was called in, along with my parents and six other siblings, and his partner, Justine, to say goodbye. He was officially brain-dead, and we were told that we had to take him off life support. He was thirty-eight.

I still remember the stark clinical room, the smell of hospital disinfectant, and the machine that beeped and beeped, pulling me from where I was drowning. My beloved brother, whom social welfare had separated me from before, many times during my childhood, as they put me into yet another home, was gone. I would never see his crooked smile again. How I longed to be with him, alive. I stood by his bedside and held his lifeless hand, the tears running down my face, praying to the God that I had met the year before to save him. To please save him and let him be with you, Lord.


Then I was grateful that I was sober, knowing that I was suffering from the same illness that took Charlie, and there but the grace of God go I. Addiction.

I found out later that a homemade batch of methanol, alcohol of some sort, had taken him out. Whether it was a bad batch or maybe it was spiked, I will never know.

We hope it will bring much hope to others, to show it is possible to overcome your past and to live a life well, happy, and for those that struggle with addiction, sober.


To read some lighter romance stories please go to mybook.to/TheLoveSeries



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