Overdose victims remembered in Tennessee ceremony

MEMPHIS, Tenn. (AP) — They talked about pain and loss, but they also talked about hope and love.

And mostly, they just remembered.

A Betor Way Foundation and the support group Yes, My Child were joined by about 40 people at Hope Presbyterian Church recently to remember loved ones lost to overdose.

It was in honor of National Overdose Awareness Day.

Those attending gathered in the front parking lot of Hope Church in Cordova, where 10 banners were hanging on shrubbery facing Walnut Grove Road. Each banner carried the caption "Can You See Me Now?" and contained 150 headshot photographs.

"Each of these 150 people died from a drug overdose," said Lisa Bobal, co-founder of A Betor Way. "The whole statement of 'Can You See Me Now?' really puts it into perspective because so many people who struggle with addiction feel like no one sees them."

Bobal, 59, co-founded A Betor Way Foundation with her husband, Ron, in 2017. The Bobals lost their son, Ronnie, to a drug overdose in December 2016.

A graffiti artist known for his warm heart and giving nature, Ronnie's graffiti name was "Betor."

He was 29 when he died.

"He was very creative and just a sweet and gentle soul," Bobal said of her son. "Growing up as a young child, he went to Catholic school and was very involved in the church.

"People used to say they thought he was going to be a priest."

Bobal said Ronnie struggled with mental health issues but wouldn't take medication, instead trying to self-medicate with street drugs. After his death, the Bobals founded A Betor Way in honor of Ronnie's commitment to helping his friends who struggled with addiction.

On Friday nights, the organization operates a "Harm Reduction Unit" offering hot meals, needle exchanges, wound care and doctor consultations for free.

"We serve approximately 120 people every Friday night at our Harm Reduction Unit," Bobal said. "It's completely anonymous because we have to stop the stigma surrounding addiction."

Attendees were encouraged to bring hand-held bells for a one-minute commemorative ringing at sunset and also pictures of their loved ones to place on a remembrance table.

The roughly 10-foot-long table was draped in a white tablecloth, adorned with purple flowers, framed portraits and twinkle lights. An empty purple chair sat at the end of the table representing the chair that sits at the kitchen table after a loved one is lost to an overdose.

Heather Teague, 40, attended the ceremony with her mother in honor of her brother, Stephen McDivitt, who died from an overdose in June 2017 at 31.

Describing her brother as having an infectious smile and a heart of gold, Teague has worn a purple T-shirt for "Purple Fridays" in honor of her brother and overdose awareness every Friday since his death.

"I wear these purple T-shirts because I'm trying to remove the stigma around addiction," Teague said. "That's why my brother wouldn't go back to rehab for a second time. Stigma."

Teague said Stephen was the most highly functioning addict she ever knew and it took a long time for her family to figure out about his struggle with addiction.

"We were in a 5,000-square-foot house in Germantown when my brother died," Teague said. "If you look at the photos on that table, these are not junkies under a bridge — they look like a graduating class."

Teague said the struggle of addiction has many faces and victims often turn to drugs after struggling with pain issues, like Stephen.

"Stephen was a bartender and didn't have insurance, so he started taking pain pills," Teague said. "I have friends I played college basketball with who get injured, and they're addicts. It can touch any walk of life."

Teague added that normalizing addiction struggles within the public consciousness can help stop overdose deaths and that addiction is a struggle like any other disease or illness.

"It's like when people struggle with eating disorders and mental illness," Teague said. "These are real people, and they had so much going for them. To remove the stigma is a struggle."

Those attending were encouraged to write the name of their loved one on glossy purple "Overdose Awareness Rocks," also provided by A Betor Way.

Much in the spirit of 901 Rocks often placed throughout the city, Bobal hoped attendees would leave the rocks at random places and post pictures on social media with the hashtag #OverdoseAwareness.

Just prior to the bell-ringing, A Betor Way Syringe Services Program operations manager Brad Yackey spoke. Yackey is a recovering heroin addict.

"I've been given the gift of recovery, and a lot of people don't get that gift," Yackey said. "I was addicted, and I didn't think there was a way out."

Yackey said while many think syringe service programs are controversial, A Betor Way has been responsible for more than 1,945 overdose reversals from Narcan the group has distributed.

"Overdoses are happening. The last number we saw was 2.8 a day in Shelby County and last year there were 108,000 overdoses in the United States," Yackey said. "You can't even smoke a joint without worrying about it having fentanyl in it."

Yackey added that it's easy to ignore those struggling with addiction but ignorance will not solve the overdose crisis.

"What can we do to help those who are underserved, help those who people drive by and don't see them?" Yackey said. "I don't know what this epidemic is, but we've got to stop it, and that starts here, having tough conversations."

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