I remember changing channels on the television, back when I used to watch it. I was twelve years old, it was 1996, and the brand new Stone Temple Pilots video, Big Bang Baby, was on. I wasn't familiar with Stone Temple Pilots, but I was mesmerized. Weiland's band mates performed well enough. But the lead singer stole the show. Scott Weiland moved around the set with a strange sort of confidence. He playfully mugged for the camera, and tossed American one dollar bills like a jaded showman.

While browsing Twitter Thursday night, I was shocked to learn of Weiland's death. His drug problems have been well publicized for about twenty years. But he didn't join the infamous 27 Club, he was still alive at 48. As one person on Twitter said, they figured Weiland had Keith Richards' longevity considering what he’d already survived.

Weiland was touring Canada and the United States with his new band, The Wildabouts. His manager found him dead on his tour bus. The Wildabouts just played my hometown, Toronto, last Tuesday.

The results of the autopsy have yet to be released, so we can't be certain of his cause of death. But it's reasonably assumed that his long term drug problems may have killed him, directly or indirectly.

I remember being angered at many comments on the internet in reaction to Whitney Houston's death a few years ago. The crack addict jokes were cruel enough while she was still alive. They continued after her death. Sure, she was no longer able to read nasty internet comments, but her daughter, Bobbi Kristina could.

I remember when Amy Winehouse received a massive amount of praise worldwide for her groundbreaking Back to Black album. I was as impressed by her music as everyone else. Not only was she a stellar musician, but her lyrics could shake your psyche in palpable ways. Her beautiful soul was obvious. But not to my stepfather.

“Why are people going on and on about what a great singer Amy Winehouse is? She's a bloody junkie. Why would anyone worship a bloody junkie?”

Unfortunately, too many people believe that a person's accomplishments and talents are meaningless if they have drug or mental health problems. Like many, as soon as I learn about a celebrity's death, I go straight to Wikipedia. Weiland's Wikipedia page was updated with his death, but someone vandalized the occupation field to read “Musician, singer-songwriter, drug eater.” Thank goodness that when I reloaded the page on Friday morning, the “drug eater” part was removed.

My brother, Simon Crawley, has had serious drug problems for at least the past thirty years. Last time I asked my sister Victoria about him, she said that she doesn't know where he is, or even whether or not he's alive. Our father died in 2013, and he took his worries about Simon's wellbeing to his grave.

If Simon were to magically appear in my Toronto flat, I'd give him a warm hug. I've always known that there's a beautiful man underneath all of those layers of drug addiction. He'd warmly hug me back- I've struggled with anorexia for the past sixteen years.

If I died of my anorexia, or if he died of an overdose, what would people say at our funerals? “The junkie had it coming to him.” “Her stupid obsession with thinness killed her, what a vapid way to go.” I certainly hope not.

Those sort of comments encourage the immense stigma of drug and mental health problems. Due to that stigma, millions of people around the world who desperately need help don't get it. Either they're ashamed of their problems, or medical professionals don't take them seriously, or both.

If we want to prevent more deaths like Scott Weiland's, or Whitney Houston's, or Amy Winehouse's, or the thousands of non-famous people who die of drugs or mental illness each day, we need a shift in attitude.

Treat people with drug and mental health illnesses like people with cancer or heart disease, not like criminals or pariahs. Think of all the lives that could be saved if we treated the troubled with compassion rather than hatred. I'm sure Mr. Weiland and the people who loved him would thank you for it.