My heart beat faster as my mom and I stepped into the rehab facility. I was about to encounter this someone. I didn’t know anymore. My Aunt, Jane, who was addicted to hardcore drugs. It didn’t just hurt me, but it damaged my view of her as my role model. I always looked at her for guidance on what to do as I developed into an adult, but my perspective of her was far from my role model now. At 13, I realized she was a deadbeat adult in my life, who couldn’t do anything to better me as a person. She stepped through the door, a tiny stick of a person which came towards me. The person I was supposed to confide in, look to for guidance, and nurture me was gone.  I didn’t see the same person anymore, but this prepared me for my life. By seeing how low a drug can take someone’s life and flip it upside down made me scared. Yeah, life had its obstacles, but this by far was the hardest to get over yet.  

She ran up to me and hugged me so tight. It felt like needles poking me as she let go. I tried to hold it together, but I just broke down. My aunt said “No don’t cry, smile because your aunt is still alive and the healthiest I have been in years.” She handed me a locket. “Put this on and never take it off.” I slipped the necklace on and popped it open. There I saw a picture of my aunt holding me when I was a baby. I glanced at her out the corner of my eye and felt weak. My mind flooded with memories and reasons why I admired this woman so much.

“I’m so glad you’re better, Aunt Jane,” I said in a low tone. She didn’t hear me, but it just felt good to get out. On the car ride to my house everyone was quiet. We pulled up and Aunt Jane didn’t recognize the house.
“Oh did you move?” she said.
“No silly” I said.

As my mom unlocked the front door, the whole family yelled “Surprise!” and aimed their phones at Aunt Jane. She busted out into tears of joy. This was one of the first times I’ve seen the family all together since she was in rehab. Everyone gathered in the kitchen and Aunt Jane spoke. “This is such a blessing to be alive and with my family again. I have made so many wrongs, but from this point forward everything will be right.” I could see the change in her, but I wondered how temporary this was going to be because this was starting to become a cycle.
About a year ago she was in rehab again and made a promise to never relapse, but that lasted for about a month or two and now we’re back in this same situation. After the party, I showed Aunt Jane up to her room she would be staying in for a few days until she got a house. She sat me down on the bed. “Thank you for being patient and believing in me through this tough period. I thought about you every day, how much I was hurting you if I didn’t change for the better and prove I could get through this.”

This is where my mind goes every night I lay in bed, back to my aunt. Every word she spoke was powerful. I knew she could change for the better.

The next morning, my mom told me to go check on my aunt. I went upstairs and opened her door and found her passed out with a needle her arm. I called 911. I yelled, my voice shaky from crying. I continued to call her name, but got no response.

The ambulance arrived and took her away. My mom and I went to the hospital and I ran to the desk for help. “Where is my Aunt Jane?” the nurse told me to calm down and go wait in the lobby. About 45 minutes passed and I was able to go in the room. She looked almost dead. “Aunt Jane?” She started coughing and looked at me. “How could you do this again? Why?” She was silent, just staring. I was broken. I couldn’t be around her anymore. I was so young and just wondered what I did to deserve this. Her relapsing again just confirmed nobody could keep their word. I got up and left.

She looked at me and said “I really did try.” I still think about when I stepped into her bedroom and saw her passed out. I arrived home and I laid in the bed and my mind kept escaping to my aunt.
She was my motivation for a better me. I believed in my heart this woman could change. I was failed for a second time and this was my breaking point. I always wondered what made her so relapse, but I could never figure out why or how somebody could keep destroying their family. As I was laying in my bed, my mom walked in with a phone and said “Aunt Jane wants to talk.” I hesitated and grabbed the phone
“Hello?” I said.
“I love you.” She said.
Those were the last words she told me.