He didn't OD - but heroin got him all the same.
Eddie Mendoza's youngest son, Alex would've turned 23 last fall. Except, like all 22 year-olds, he made bad choices. Only his choices turned out to be worse than most.
Heroin touches - blackens - a lot of lives, but usually shame keeps people quiet. That's why it was especially unusual to hear Alex's story told without apology and without shame. Parts of it were even yelled.
Yelled because the story had to clear the volume of the songs. "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" followed by "Bobby McGee" and more classics-- the scene was rockin on Occidental Park on Saturday.
"It's really easy to concentrate on darkness," Eddie told me, with a drum in his hand. "But if we can share a little light, why not?"
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Eddie had to learn that the hard way. He's a respiratory therapist, so when he went to his son's hospital bedside, he knew exactly what was happening. He understood Alex had contracted MRSA through his needle use, that MRSA was turning Alex's lungs into paper, that it was killing his youngest boy.
When Alex was gone, parts of Eddie were too. He was deep in the darkness. Until the angels started singing.
His network of musician friends didn't always know what to say - but they knew how to sing and dance and love. In benefit after benefit, they raised the money for Alex's funeral and then some. Eddie's fiancee Aury saw the light it put back in his eye and knew their pack was powerful.
She and others formed 222 Band of Angels.
Now they organize all sorts of events to bring love and light and music to dark corners. Saturday's was in Occidental Park.
They shared what they'd collected for six weeks: socks, coats, blankets, anything to keep people warm. And they sang.
Eddie and Aury did it for anyone who could use a boost. That includes people battling the same addiction his son faced. It's painful for Eddie to see, but he wants them to know they need not be ashamed. But they do need help.
He tells them, "This is not the answer. Don't make bad choices. There are options. You are loved."
He admits it's not easy, but he explained to me why he does it, "You have to ask, 'How are we our best stewards of our brothers?' We do what we can."
And then he goes back to his drum, his fiancee and his friends and plays again.
"Love is what I got. I said remember that."
This story is part of KIRO 7 News anchor's Monique Ming Laven's series called the Seattle Antifreeze. After the Aurora Bridge crash, people in our area jumped into action, donating hotel rooms, blood, prayers, challenging Seattleites' reputation for being chilly (the "Seattle Freeze"). It inspired her to pass along stories of when we see people in the community coming together, or what she calls #SeattleAntifreeze.