Updated: Apr 6, 2019
Fifteen years ago today I lost someone very special to me. I loved her, and ... I hated her. Her name was Teresa. She's the reason I wrote a book.
Teresa, Jane and Diane.
All reasons for writing a book. My three mothers. Three strong women who, despite the odds against them... died.
I was a little girl when our story began. It really begins much further back then my own birth, but because I am the one of the four of us that is still breathing, this is my story. The story of the little girl who watched her family die. As much as I wish I could bring them back to life to ask them what they thought, what they went through, what they felt and why? God... why? I can't.
I didn't know to ask these questions until I was a grown-up girl grieving for the three women who raised me.
The truth about how powerful this is for me, is that I'm fighting back tears right now.
I have wanted people to relate to my pain, but at the same time it is the most painful thing I have ever experienced and I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.
That I have survived this grief to then turn around and write an entire book about it, one the world will read, is a shock to me.
This is not something I would chalk up as strength or determination. This book is a tangible reminder of pain. This book is a scar. It is a wound that I am handing to you to pick at. Here, take my pain, open it up, see what's inside.
I want you to imagine your family for just a minute. The one you grew up in. Your mom and dad, your brothers and sisters. Now, they're all dead, except one, and you can roll a dice to see which one is left. How do you feel?
That is my pain. Every. Single. Day.
Now, you've lost all of that family, and who do you turn to in your grief? Because the people you might run to are dead, now raise your new family... go ahead. Be a normal, well rounded parent and wife/husband. It's hard right? Damn near impossible.
This is a simplified version, and even if you can not relate to this, this is the story you will be reading.
This happened to your friend, your sister, your family... me.
This is an exciting moment, I am about to share with you the title of the book I started writing nearly seven years ago. However exciting this moment is though, I need to ground us all in reality. This is not an exciting book. This is not a fun, happy book, and you already know it does not have a happy ending. One out of four survival rate does not a happy ending make. That's why I write though. That's the reason. I should not be here alone, and yet I am because I was...
Raised by Narcotics
A Memoir by Alyse Neibaur