Words from Nikki, Kyndall's oldest sister

It was 11:30am, Sunday, September 7, 2003. I was teaching Sunday school class when I got the call from Kyndall’s roommate, Olivia. She was upset. She asked if I had heard from Kyndall because she never came home from the previous night. She said Kyndall had been upset about something from work. She said Kyndall had been sick the last couple weeks with a bad cold but she also seemed depressed and rarely got out of bed.

  I had spoken to Kyndall only two days before. She seemed fine to me. She asked me what I wanted for my birthday. She wanted to buy me a hanging candle fixture for my new house. She bought one for herself and thought I would like one too. She sounded fine. I was so proud of her being clean 1 year and at how far she had come. I didn’t know anything was bothering her.

Olivia was worried. She started to cry at the fear of something happening to her. I wasn’t that worried. I thought maybe she needed to take a ride. Maybe she went to visit a friend. I decided to try and call Ken. Ken was Kyndall’s old roommate from Philadelphia. She kept in touch with him from time to time and he was basically the only friend I knew of Kyndalls.

I told Olivia not to worry and to call me if she heard from Kyndall. I then called Ken. I only got the voice mail and left a message. I finished teaching my class and then went to my daughter’s cheerleading game. I didn’t think much more about the phone call until the 3^rd quarter of the game. All of the sudden, I began to worry. Really worry. I felt something was wrong. I started praying for my sister. Please God, watch over her. Keep her safe. Keep her from going back to drugs. Please…

I got home about 4:00pm. I called Ken again. Answering machine once more. I then got a call from Olivia. She had not heard from Kyndall yet and wanted to file a missing person’s report. I said, ok. Go do it. She called back about 6:00pm to tell me that a family member had to file it. She was going to go there and portray herself as one of our sisters. Kyndall’s town was a few hours away so we decided to do it this way. I hung up with her because my call waiting was beeping. It was my stepfather. He said Kyndall was in the hospital but then my phone cut out. I was using my cell phone. I called back Olivia and told her that Kyndall was in the hospital. She started crying and I heard some people crying in the background. My phone started beeping again. I told her, it is ok. She will be fine! I was actually relieved that she was in the hospital. I thought to myself, ok, she relapsed but she has done this before. She will get through it again.

I took the other call. It was my stepfather again. I asked how Kyndall was doing.

He said, ‘Nikki, they say she is dead’.

I told him to shut up. I kept insisting he was joking. I really thought he was kidding. He said, ‘Nikki, would I kid about something like that?’

I started screaming. I felt like I was outside of my body looking down. I couldn’t believe those screams were coming from me. My Kyndall. My precious baby sister. I helped raise her. I couldn’t believe it!! NO!!! NO!! NO!!!

  We made it to the hospital in Paoli, PA around 9:00pm. All of my family met there. I wanted to see her. I had to see her as I still couldn’t believe any of this.

  I walked into the room alone. I could smell urine in the room. It was cold in there and very silent. It was a small, square room with nothing in it except for the metal table. There was someone on top of the table. I slowly walked over to it, my whole body shaking. It was Kyndall. My heart sank. She had a sheet over her body and her head was turned to the side. She had a big tube in her mouth. There was a little blood on the sheet. I reached down and touched her face. It was cold. I leaned down closer to her. I could smell her hair. It was a fresh, shampooed smell. I wanted to wake her up. I turned closer to look at her face. Her eyes were ever slightly opened.  I looked into her eyes. It was then that I knew she wasn’t there. They were so empty. She was gone. She went home.

I started weeping and I left the room. Goodbye, my baby sister, goodbye. I asked God to love her and take care of her forever.

  I hate this drug. I hate it with every ounce of hate a person can have. Heroin. I hate it.

  Below is a letter that I wrote to the Home News Tribune in NJ. It was published as the letter of the week on Sunday, September 21, 2003.  In addition to creating this website, I am now working on forming workshops to focus on drugs and their effects to junior high school students. I found that drug prevention is often easier to accomplish than drug rehabilitation although I believe both can happen. God help us all.

-Nicole DelBuono

More Drug Education Needed

It’s a sad fact of life that this country cannot win the war against drugs. It’s a sadder fact that millions of people are addicted to one drug in particular. That drug is Heroin.

I lost my 23-year-old sister to a Heroin overdose less than two weeks ago. Since then, I have made alarming discoveries.

According to the 1998 National Household Survey on Drug Abuse, which may actually underestimate illicit opiate (heroin) use, an estimated 2.4 million people had used heroin.

Even more alarming is the fact that between 1991 and 1996, among youths aged 12 to 17, heroin-related episodes nearly quadrupled. That number has been on a steady increase.

It continues in new, young users across the country who are being lured by inexpensive, high-purity heroin that can be sniffed or smoked instead of injected. Heroin has also been appearing in more affluent communities.

What can we do about it?

I have spoken to a number of addicts all of which started out by smoking marijuana on average of age 12-14. This is a gateway drug that may eventually lead to Heroin use. Currently, children receive drug and alcohol education starting in grammar school and continuing through high school years.

Is it enough?

The answer is no. Junior high school should offer increased education with workshops and seminars on a regular basis of at least once a marking period. In addition, parents need to get more involved in their children’s social life. They need to know what they are doing in their social time and whom they are spending that time with.

In a majority of cases, it is not a man in black standing on a street corner offering your child drugs. It is their best friend. It is the boy your daughter has a crush on. It is the popular crowd your child longs to hang out with.

Parents, I urge you. Know your kids. Don’t lecture them but involve yourself in their lives.

Teachers, educate them. The Internet is a valuable learning tool. Get online and educate yourselves about Heroin and other drugs so you can know what to watch for and what to teach. Offer workshops so kids can see how drugs can wreck their lives and their family.

My sister’s fight with drugs has ended. Don’t let your child’s fight begin!

Back To: