Our very loved son was born on February 17th at one minute before midnight. From the time he was a toddler he was the most daring child. The fastest bike rider, runner, swimmer. he had many, many friends. Every evening they would meet at the large picnic table on my porch. I used to call it “David hold court”. People came to him with their problems, and I often heard that my son “was the nicest guy”. He was against drugs. I would hear him tell people to go home and “come back when you’re not high” He got in trouble with the police for speeding and smoked pot. Those were the only real problems I had with him. That last Sunday night, his girl friend was sick, so he spent the night with her in the Emergency Room where I worked. He drove home with me. We stopped at a deli for breakfast, and I went to bed as soon as I got home. I was exhausted. Next thing I knew, my younger son was shaking me awake. “Momma something is wrong with David”. I raced to his room and there was something wrong – he was on the floor dead. My younger son called 911 and I started CPR. I was praying, and sobbing and trying to breath for my son. He died on August 2,2012. of and accidental opiate overdose. I have no idea how this happened. To this day the agony never ends.