A Family Story

Changed by Addiction, Bound by Recovery

We are a family forever changed by addiction—and bound together by recovery.

There were three of us sisters: Jennifer, Ariel and Alixandra, each of us seven years apart. Jennifer, the oldest, was the one we admired and followed. Our parents gave us a home filled with nurturing, laughter and everything we needed, and though our childhood was grounded in love and stability, addiction still found its way into our lives, beginning with Jennifer.

As sisters, we followed her path—first into addiction, and then, because of her, into recovery. Jennifer fought hard. Even after relapsing, she found the strength to begin again and again. She poured herself into lifting others up, reminding them that shame had no place in recovery and that hope was always worth holding on to.

When Jennifer came to Caron, she described the campus as “magical.” For the first time, we heard in her voice a joy and optimism that she had finally found what she needed. She embraced her recovery wholeheartedly—journaling, connecting deeply with others and soaking in every chance to heal.

Caron gave Jennifer more time with us to love and to keep trying. But in December 2024, her disease became too powerful to overcome, and sadly, she passed away. The reality of this disease is that it is possible to lose someone—sometimes in their passing, other times in the connection you once had being lost because their addiction becomes stronger than anything else.

Jennifer's passing was unimaginably heartbreaking, but it also taught us the most important lesson: the inspiration to keep going comes from the bonds you share with the people you love and the courage to share your journey with others. In sharing our story, so many others have come forward – friends, neighbors and even strangers – whose lives have been impacted by addiction to share in our pain and the realization that we are not alone.


We have chosen to turn our grief into action. Instead of flowers, we asked for donations to Caron—the place that gave Jennifer hope. When Jennifer's son, Jonah, prepared for his bar mitzvah, he honored his mom through his mitzvah project: creating a library at a treatment center. Jennifer loved books, and he wanted others in recovery to find the same comfort in them as she once did. At just 13, he carried forward her legacy of helping the next person.

Today, we carry both grief and gratitude. Jennifer is no longer here, but her light lives on in the lives she touched, her sisters’ eight years in recovery and her son’s compassion.

Our journey has taught us that recovery is rarely neat or simple. It can be messy, complicated and painful. But even in the hardest moments, hope has a way of breaking through. Caron was part of Jennifer’s journey, and it remains part of ours. With your support, Caron can continue helping families like ours hold onto connection, find strength in our own recovery and create healing even in the face of loss.


In honor of National Recovery Month, make a gift today to Caron’s Mission Fund.

A man and a woman leaning on each other

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