Mother’s grief for a son lost to drugs

Western Suburbs Weekly - - Western Opinion -

I WAS in Perth re­cently see­ing all the well-dressed young peo­ple on their way to lunches and meet­ings for the Mel­bourne Cup.

As I came up the es­ca­la­tor from the sta­tion I heard a soft voice say­ing: “Can you spare some change.”

I looked to see a young man sprawled on the con­crete stretch­ing out his hand. He was, I would say, an ice ad­dict. He was filthy, shoe­less and looked like he was dy­ing.

Peo­ple walked past, ig­nor­ing him. I stopped be­cause, for one mo­ment, I thought he was my son who is a drug ad­dict liv­ing on the streets.

I won’t ever forget the sight of that poor young man and I won­der what is wrong with our so­ci­ety when there are peo­ple out there, sick peo­ple the ter­ri­ble drug suf­fer­ing.

My son is there some­where. He was in re­ha­bil­i­ta­tion for some months but we lost him again soon af­ter his dis­charge.

He is al­ways in my thoughts and there are days when I go look­ing for him in the city parks. How­ever, I know that he is lost to me and I will never forget the des­per­ate look of the young man ly­ing in the street.

Name and ad­dress sup­plied.

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