My son was born on February 7, 1990. He was a wonderful young man who loved people, and never met a stranger. He loved to help others, and became a nurse practitioner so that he was able to help as many as possible. Every person and every patient that met him had nothing but great accolades for him. He was working out in the gym when he became hurt very badly from lifting weights. He went to a doctor who prescribed opioids for the pain. That fateful day was the beginning of his demise. He, like so many others became addicted. When he could no longer get refills, he went to the street where he was paying $80.00 per pill. When they became unavailable on the street, he learned that heroin would provide the same results and was far cheaper. Zack suffered with addiction for several years, and was in rehab three times. He wanted so desperately to be free of the addiction, especially for his son, but the body was weak, and on his sister’s birthday, he finally succumbed to this awful disease.