Remembering Alex

John and Rachel Kaufman, 69 and 61 respectively, become emotional as they recall the life and death of their only son, Alex, as they talk to the Post-Gazette in their living room in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. Alex, a talented guitar player, died of a heroin overdose at 31-years-old after months staying clean in California. Around 100 friends attended his viewing. “He just was such an inspiration to people, had an infectious smile, was just a sweet soul, kind-hearted, very un-materialistic,” said Mr. Kaufman. “We all love our kids, but I really liked my son.”
Rachel Kaufman, 61, stands by the bed of her late son, Alex, at her home in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. Since Alex’s death of a heroin overdose on Dec. 8th, his mother has taken to sleeping in his bed. She says she can feel his spirit with her.
Photos of the late Alex Kaufman displayed on a comforter at his parents’ house in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. Clockwise from top: Alex with his little sister, Marinna, and his mother and father in 1991, Alex eating breakfast with a friend while staying clean in California in Sept. 2016, Alex with his two grandmothers on his high school graduation in 2003, and Alex with his parents at a celebratory lunch on his trip home from rehab in July 2016.
Rachel Kaufman, 61, tells stories of her late son, Alex, as she sits on his bed for a portrait, his guitar case open next to her. Alex sold his best guitars and a car he paid off, opened 10 credit cards, and stole to finance his heroin addiction. “When they’re using, nothing bothers them,” said Mrs. Kaufman, who said when Alex was using it was like another person was walking around in his body. “And when they’re not, they feel all of this guilt and shame.”
The Kaufman’s family dog, Roxy, lays on the bed of the late Alex Kaufman at his parents’ home in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. Surrounding Roxy are the many keychains Alex received from reaching milestones in addiction recovery support groups, part of his journey to beat his disease that included entering inpatient rehab six times.
One of the last pictures taken of Alex Kaufman, right, with his friends in California days before he passed away of a heroin overdose. “He was clean. He was sober when we were out there,” said Alex’s high school friend Tom Cook, pictured center, who was visiting Alex in California after he moved out there to stay sober and start a new life. “Pittsburgh had become toxic to Alex,” said his father, John Kaufman. “He just knew too many people who used, too many dealers. And he just told us, ‘If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to die.'”
“Let no feeling of discouragement prey on you and you will surely succeed” reads a handwritten note on the bedside table of Alex Kaufman at his parents’ home in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. Guitar picks are scattered throughout the container next. Kaufman, a lover of jazz and a talented guitarist and guitar teacher, still wrote throughout his journals of feelings of failure.
Senior photos of Alex Kaufman and his sister, Marinna, hang on the wall outside of his old bedroom at his parents house in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. “If you don’t fight this thing it will tear a family apart,” said Alex’s mother, Rachel.
“It would be wise, to learn a lesson / to find the truth, to get to heaven.” Notebooks of Alex Kaufman’s poetry reveal a young man striving to come into his own and struggling with addiction, as photographed at his parents’ home in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. “He was anxious to be able to support himself,” said his father, John, 69, who said Alex had thrown himself into several new business ventures in California to get a new life set up for himself.
Rachel Kaufman, 61, touches the curtains in the room of her late son, Alex, at her home in Mt. Lebanon on Monday, Dec. 19, 2016. “He fought to the bitter end to beat this disease,” said Mrs. Kaufman. His roommate said Alex had been reading his Narcotics Anonymous materials into the early morning hours when he left for work. When he returned, Alex’s lips were blue. “We’ll never know what happened in a few hours [early that morning] to my boy.”