Tributes

You almost made it through.

Today , on International Overdose Awareness Day, I take a moment to remember Kaden Paul Allen. Your life meant something. You were loved, you mattered, and you are still remembered. I wish you were still here. This moment is for you.”

One of the few people who approached me in grade 9 and was super welcoming at Mount Royal. He was always super nice to me. May he rest in peace.

Brett was a wonderful son, brother, uncle, friend and man on this Earth who was always looking to make other smile. He didn’t judge, he didn’t criticize and he never turned his back on anyone who needed help. He was an amazing human being and always rooted for the underdog. He was always willing to give help to others, no matter what but would not give that same help to himself. He passed away on December 9th 2017 and on that day the world lost a truly beautiful soul. Drugs took my brother from my sight but will never take him from my heart. I love him and miss him terribly. I will continue to keep his memory alive one day at a time.

Far too many gone far too soon from the Tampa Bay area.

My heart breaks for these individuals and so many others who have lost their lives to drugs, they had so much life left to live. Their memory will live on forever!

Your kids miss you. I wish you were hear to see all the special moments in their lives. Hopefully that you are resting in peace.

– One Love –

RIP I understand that you tried to stay❤️‍🩹

We miss you every single day.
Your son is so much like you in every way.
How lucky we are to have him and a piece of you still with us.
I wish you were here.

All my love.

my best friends Nikki you were my rock the one that could calm my inner turmoil byran you were the one that always made me laugh you are both with me everyday

my best friends Nikki you were my rock the one that could calm my inner turmoil byran you were the one that always made me laugh you are both with me everyday

Remembering Caleb James Lovell

August 20, 1995 – August 2, 2023

Caleb James Lovell was born on August 20, 1995, and raised in Canton, Missouri, on a little farm where he grew up learning the value of hard work, loyalty, family, and appreciating the simple things in life.

Caleb was one of those people who was hard to forget.

He had a loving and caring heart, and a sense of humor that seemed to run straight through his bones. He could be a complete goofball, make people laugh when they needed it most, and somehow bring light into a room without even trying. He was outdoorsy, down-to-earth, and happiest when he was simply being Caleb. He loved being around people, making memories, making people laugh, and lifting others up.

And Caleb was loyal.

Loyal to a fault.

That loyalty brought some of the greatest people and experiences into his life. It created friendships, memories, and bonds that meant everything to him. But sadly, that same loyalty and trust also became part of what ultimately left him vulnerable.

Caleb experienced tremendous loss.
His father passed away first, he began struggling with addiction. when his mother died, something inside of him broke in a way that he struggled to put back together. After losing his mom, he just wasn’t ok. What may have started as an attempt to numb unbearable pain eventually became a battle that consumed parts of his life and, at times, caused him to lose sight of the person he had always been.

But addiction never erased the person Caleb was.

There were times when he found his way back.

He got sober.

He worked hard. He had a job he enjoyed. He had a family he loved. He had people who cared about him. He was rebuilding his life and proving to himself that recovery was possible.

For a while, Caleb found his footing again.

And that is something that should never be forgotten.

Because Caleb wasn’t just someone who struggled with addiction.

He was someone who fought it.

He was someone who tried.

He was someone who wanted a better life.

He was someone who had already shown that he could find his way back.

But addiction is a complicated disease, and recovery isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes grief resurfaces. Sometimes trauma comes rushing back. Sometimes the weight of life becomes heavier than a person knows how to carry.

When Caleb became emotionally broken and struggled to deal with life on life’s terms, he turned to people he trusted.

He believed they were his friends.

He trusted them during one of the most vulnerable moments of his life.

And those people chose to get high with him.

Caleb overdosed.

And instead of calling 911, instead of getting help, instead of doing everything possible to save his life, he was abandoned.

He was treated as though his life was disposable.

But Caleb’s life was never disposable.

Caleb was a son.

He was a fiancé.

He was a bonus dad to a little girl who loved him so very much.

He was a brother—the beloved, sometimes aggravating, shithead baby brother who could probably drive his family absolutely crazy and still somehow make them laugh five minutes later.

He was an uncle.

He was a friend.

He was family.

He was someone’s favorite person.

He was somebody’s reason to smile.

He was a human being who was deeply loved.

And he mattered.

Caleb died on August 2, 2023.

He was only 27 years old.

Twenty-seven.

A life that should have had so many more birthdays, holidays, adventures, laughs, mistakes, successes, family gatherings, and ordinary days ahead of it.

His life ended far too soon.

And the people who loved him were left behind to carry something that never truly goes away.

People still miss Caleb every single day.

They still hurt.

They still wonder what he would be doing.

They still think about the man he could have become and all the moments he should have been here for.

But they also remember the man he was.

They remember his smile.

His humor.

His stubbornness.

His loyalty.

His big heart.

His love for the outdoors.

His ability to make people laugh.

They remember the bonus dad he was to a little girl who loved him.

They remember the brother who could be a pain in the ass but was still their brother.

They remember the uncle.

The friend.

The fiancé.

The son.

They remember Caleb.

And that is what I want people to understand when they hear his story.

Caleb was more than the way he died.

He was more than addiction.

He was more than his worst day.

He was more than the mistakes he made while he was hurting.

He was a whole person with a whole life.

And his life deserves to be remembered.

Because addiction doesn’t always look the way people imagine it does.

Sometimes it is obvious.

Sometimes the struggle is visible.

But sometimes it happens quietly, behind closed doors, hidden underneath a smile.

Sometimes the person sitting beside you laughing and making everyone else feel better is fighting an internal battle that nobody knows about.

Some of the most vibrant, funny, loving, and giving people can be suffering the most.

Caleb was one of those people.

That is why we have to talk about addiction.

That is why we have to talk about overdose.

That is why we have to stop treating addiction as a reason to judge someone and start recognizing it as a reason to reach for them.

Because when someone is overdosing, we don’t get to decide whether they deserve help.

We call 911!!!

We get naloxone.

We stay.

We help.

We fight for their life.

Because someone’s worst moment does not erase every good moment they have ever given the world.

Caleb deserved someone to fight for him that night.

He deserved someone to see past the addiction and see Caleb.

He deserved someone to believe his life was still worth saving.

He deserved another chance.

He deserved to come home.

We cannot change what happened to Caleb.

We cannot give him another day.

But we can decide what his story means.

We can choose compassion instead of judgment.

We can choose courage instead of silence.

We can learn how to recognize an overdose.

We can carry naloxone.

We can teach our children and our communities that calling for help is not something to be ashamed of.

We can reach out to the person who has isolated themselves.

We can remind people that relapse does not mean failure.

We can remind people that asking for help does not make them weak.

And we can love people better.

Because there are still people struggling.

There are still families sitting beside empty chairs.

There are still mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, fiancés, friends, and loved ones waking up every morning and realizing all over again that the person they love isn’t coming home.

Addiction is real.

Overdose is real.

Grief is real.

But so is hope.

And if Caleb’s story can make even one person stop and think before walking away from someone who is struggling, if it can encourage someone to call 911, if it can teach someone to carry naloxone, if it can convince one person battling addiction that they are still worthy of love and another chance, then Caleb’s story can continue to save lives.

We cannot give Caleb more time.

But we can make the time he had mean something.

We can keep saying his name.

We can keep telling people who he really was.

We can keep his laughter alive in the memories of the people who knew him.

And we can make sure that when people remember Caleb James Lovell, they don’t only remember how he died.

They remember how he lived.

He lived with humor.

He lived with loyalty.

He loved deeply.

He made people laugh.

He worked hard.

He loved the outdoors.

He loved his family.

He was a bonus dad.

A brother.

An uncle.

A fiancé.

A son.

A friend.

And he was loved.

Caleb’s life mattered.

Caleb’s life still matters.

And as long as the people who loved him continue to tell his story, a piece of Caleb will continue to live on.

Remember the person. Not just the addiction.

Remember the life. Not just the loss.

Remember Caleb.

August 20, 1995 – August 2, 2023

Forever 27. ❤️

My Baby brother,
Another year has passed without you and its not any easier. Your life was cut so short and not having you here is still a hard reality to grasp. I hope wherever you are now, you are pain free, smile every day and are filled with warmth and love. I know you are watching over us all.
I do and will continue to talk about you, always and forever.
I will leave a light on x

When I was a little girl, my Dad became addicted to drugs
and alcohol. He died when I was in my early 20’s from a
heroin overdose after a relapse while drinking alcohol.
A few years after he died, my childhood friend of 20 years died
from recreational drug use. Two years later ; My daughter was
4 years old, her biological Father’s life ended too soon when he
drank alcohol under the influence of prescribed pain medication.
After my daughter had grown up, she lost her childhood friend
of twenty years to a drug overdose after falling into addiction.
She left behind two children.

When I think of the countless children and youth who are left
to try and understand why someone they loved died from a
preventable death like that of drug use, it is painfully confusing.

Let’s help break cycles of stigma and support children and youth.

This tribute is in memory of countless loved ones I and others
have lost that left young people to grow up without them and
grieve the loss of what could have been. This is a tribute to all
of the caregivers who try to education, support and love all of
the grieving children and youth in their lives after such losses.

It took my grief many years to learn that the drug use and the
deaths were not because I wasn’t special enough, it was because
denial is deadly. Be it any form of drug use and or tainted drugs.

Let the young know they are special, support their grief for as
long as they need to and when they’ve stop talking always …
(( keep our hearts and arms open for unconditional love )).

Sincerely,

Tabitha
Former Board of Directors Member of From Grief To Action
& Former Facilitator, Organizer and Guest Speaker for IOAD
Vancouver British Columbia Canada

Overdose awareness day. This is a day I wish we didn’t have to know but 3 years ago your overdose made this tragic day a part of our lives. Time changes the pain but it also deepens the loss as photos grow old and new ones are always different without you. The loss runs deep in our family mate without you. Take it easy xxxxx

Dear mom although me and my sister was so young still we miss you dearly and you did not deserve to be taken from us so soon we love you
And no it was not ran by us for you to be posted but we are coming to a point to learn how to be at peace with you being gone even tho it’s so hard on many days and it still doesn’t get no easier on holidays and birthdays btw you have 3 grandchildren

You loved with all your heart and you were an awesome friend and great pop’s to your grandbabies. I miss your voice, hug’s, laugh and the way you could make me smile even on my worst day’s. I love and miss you so much. I’ll never love another like I love you.

11/1/1985-11/6/2021
You are my first and last thought of every day.
Missed every moment of every day.

My beloved granddaughter Victoria never did I think I would live my older years without you in it. I was not ready to let you go. God had other plans. On August 8th 2021 he gave you your Heavenly wings and are forever 26. 5 years have passed since and I love you even more and dearly miss your presence in our life’s. I will forever speak your name and tell your story. Even though Fentanyl stole your life it doesn’t define who you were. You mattered, you still matter. ❤️
Love grandma JoAnn

I’m so sorry i let us drift. i always considered you my best friend and im sorry that our time together was so brief. i always found peace in the idea that you were finally content with your life and you were doing better for yourself, so i let you be. i really took you for granted
im so sorry and i love you more than i could ever convey.