A tragic Fentanyl story without redemption
Matt was 40, my sister’s age. He was training for a marathon and trying to talk his many friends into joining. He lay in bed with his three-year-old son every night to help him fall asleep. It’s hard to sleep train a toddler with a newborn to nurture at the same time, but he loved spending this time with his two kids and being the dad everyone counted on.
Matt’s best …




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