A son, a dog and a fentanyl epidemic

When I answered the phone, I could hear his wife screaming. The line went silent for a moment before a family friend spoke in her most formal British accent: “I regret to inform you that Ian has passed…” Five miles away from my son’s home, I had spent the early morning at work, taking Teams meetings and crafting emails. Meanwhile, while working on a resume, Ian silently died within seconds at his desk from fentanyl poisoning. As I sat numb at our dining room table, my husband drove to Ian’s...