” Oliver I’m here to tell you I miss you, love you, miss your scent, sense of humor, the kisses and hugs. You, Samantha and I lived a very long 13 years and it only seems cruel and senseless that you’ve been taken from us in such an evil sudden way. I pray some day when we are all together again there will be some answers. We give you this tree, this yard where you were loved by so many and your spirit will remain to guide others in all the positive lessons and honesty you gave us, but most of all yourself in your 13th year. I love and miss you more than I could even try to express.”

Avery, Oliver’s Mom, December 1, 1996 @ The Tree Dedication

My boyfriend, Reed comforted me by telling me that he had everything under control after my son died. He started collecting the mail and going through it. Too bad the actual reason he had begun collecting my mail was to start perfecting my signature. He told me he would keep our financial books while I was grieving. Cooking our books is a better way to describe what he was really doing. The mail collection had started to take on a bazaar twist. His notion of collecting the mail was just that. A plastic trash bag hidden in the far corner of a back closet accumulated all the mail that was distasteful to him. Anything that required paying fell into that category.

Reed directed me to his therapist when I started questioning a few of his actions. He thought this man was so talented and would help me deal with the pain of losing Oliver. No one will ever convince me that he wasn’t on his stolen payroll. The therapist spent a great deal of time talking about the virtues of having Reed around now at this stage in my life. He believed it was a good idea for us to become closer and make my daughter recognize that Reed was not leaving. What the hell kind of therapist was this? He was a poor therapist at best. The therapist prescribed me a very heavy narcotic and sent me on my way.

The world had grown very dark for me. I was lost in a sea of pills and depression. The months crept by and I never left the house except to go to Reed’s “talented” over prescribing therapist. I could see Samantha, my daughter becoming concerned as well as her boyfriend. To be honest I was getting a little concerned about myself as well.

My soul and brain were now so fogged I lost track of what was coming in for funds and hand no clue what was going out. At this point I don’t think I really cared anymore about anything he was doing but I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t let down my daughter.

My depression and dependence on Reed was so deep by now that I not only believed him but also needed him more each moment. He told me that I needed to start seeing a therapist with a background in mental illness compounded by drug addiction and not to worry he will help me. He will never leave me he kept saying. Never leave me was the part that was starting to scare me.

The new therapist started me on a course of drugs that would end up really doing a number on me. The drug was lithium. Over time it made my limbs feel like they weighed a thousand pounds each. I began to reach toxic levels and was afraid of not doing what the Doctor kept telling me to do.