Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

He Is Risen

April 5, 2026 /

 Matt, today is Easter.  We went to church as the sun was shining and walked out into the rain.   I guess the weather is mimicking my soul as I’m silently crying inside thinking of all the Easter’s you have missed. 

I remember how much you loved Easter not for going to church but for the baskets and hunts where you would fill your bag with candy as you ran around with the kids seeking out every egg you could find.  I remember the chocolate ring around your mouth as you ran up to me so proud of your stash.  

Even as an adult you still loved it when I made you your own basket filled with your childhood favorite candy.  You would look at me and smile telling me you’re too old for an Easter basket as you picked through the candy and popped one into your mouth.  

When you moved home we would attend church together.   I loved the fact that you had faith and it made me so happy to share our thoughts about Jesus and Heaven.   Now that you are gone I wonder if you have found that peace promised to us in the Bible.  I wonder if you’re healed and healthy.  I wonder if you know the love of your Heavenly Father and if you’re surrounded by beauty, peace, love and joy.  

Somedays are torture as my faith is challenged, as my grief wraps me up in despair and the doubt slowly creeps in.   I wonder if this is all there really is and when you’re gone you’re just gone.  That is just too much to bear.  That is when the panic of never seeing you again starts to squeeze my heart and take my breath away.  Those moments are when I have to cling to my faith, cry out to Jesus and pray that the Bible is full of truth.  That Jesus did exist and rise to Heaven.  I have to believe that today Easter Sunday He has risen and you are with him living in paradise.  I have to believe that one day we will be together again never to be separated.  That there will be no more weeping or grief.  That when my time comes, yours will be the first face I see and we will once again walk by the sea we both love surrounded by all the pups we have ever loved.  Jesus will be walking beside us laughing as we catch up on all you have missed.  

Oh Matt, I pray you have found your peace.  That you know the love of your Heavenly Father and you are surrounded by peace and joy.  I can’t imagine the celebration of Easter in Heaven I can only dream of what you are living because He has risen.  


 

Grief…..

February 28, 2026 /

That are days when it just sneaks in. When you begin to feel its weight wrapping around your heart. When you feel that all familiar tightness in your throat and the cloak of heaviness wraps itself around your body and refuses to let go.

You try to understand what is happening. When you woke you felt ok. Then as the hours passed and a memory played in your mind your body reacted and remembered.

Grief is like an unexpected visitor. Like hearing that knock at your door when no one is supposed to be knocking. It doesn’t matter if you open your door, she seeps into the crevices and finds her way in.

You try to get away. To keep her at arms length. You didn’t plan on her visit, on your heart to feel like it’s being strangled and your breath to feel labored. You woke to a sunny day with beautiful blue skies but grief doesn’t care about the weather when she strikes. Grief is relentless and commanding.

Grief doesn’t count the years, she doesn’t care about the length of time that has passed. Grief has no time limit and she knows her power never lessens once she’s wrapped herself around your heart.

Grief never forgets where you live. She knows how to find you. A song, a memory, a glance at a photo. The sound of a hawk, or visit from a raven she knows your triggers and uses them well.

You try to keep busy. You clean, do laundry, walk the dog and all the while she holds on like a lost child refusing to let you out of her sight. She digs deeper into your soul until you are nothing but a mass of tears. You are drowning as the waves come with unexpected force. Pulling you into that abyss of darkness. Regret swallowing you as you struggle to remain afloat.

You finally give up and let grief have her way. Understanding that this fight will never be over. Some days she stays on the horizon but she never forgets that you loved a son who is now forever gone and your heart always has a place for her to exist…….

Grief has found me today as I remember my beautiful boy…….Grief 

 

Eleven Years and A Thousand Tears.

January 2, 2026 /

Eleven years and a thousand tears….. Matt eleven years ago on a Friday night we spoke at 6:23. You were driving home from work and we talked about our weekend plans. You were going to meet your friends on the beach in Boca and I was going to spend a 12 hour shift taking care of sick babies in the NICU.

We continued our conversation just talking about how we spent our day and when I found out you left your ear piece at home I cautioned you about paying attention when you were driving.

We ended our conversation with saying I love you and that we would speak tomorrow. Sadly tomorrow never came for us.

On Saturday morning I expected to hear from you. I was busy in the NICU with a sick baby so my mind was occupied with my patients needs. By 10 am I started to get worried and took a break to call you. When you didn’t answer I thought you were at the beach enjoying your favorite place. Little did I know you took your last breath at 4:50 am in a hotel room in Boca Raton.

Tonight I sit staring at the clock. Wondering what was going through your mind. Thinking that 11 years ago you were still here on the earth making plans for your future. You were alive. You were laughing. We were talking about when I would see you again.

My body remembers. My chest is tight. My throat feels like I’m being strangled. My breath feels heavy. My brain remembers hearing the words that changed the trajectory of my life, “it’s Matt, he’s dead.” I remember hearing the screams not knowing they were coming from my soul. I remember wanting to die to catch you before you got too far away from me.
I remember being numb for months as my brain protected me from the reality it knew I could not handle.

Tonight those memories are flooding my soul as I struggle to catch my breath. My brain knows it’s been 11 years, but my soul screams how…..

All I Want For Christmas Is To Turn Back The Clock.

December 24, 2025 /

Matt,   It’s Christmas Eve and I sit here numb wondering how we got to this place.  How are you not here.  How can it be ten Christmases without you.  How have I survived this life altering nightmare that has become my life.

My mind keeps reliving those beautiful memories of past Holidays when our family was whole and happy.  The days when my boys would pretend to be asleep as I snuck presents from their hiding places and placed them under the tree.  I remember the squeals of delight as you and Mike unwrapped your gifts, the laughter and smiles that warmed my heart.  Oh how I wish I could turn back time and feel that profound joy.  

I look back now realizing how I took that precious time so for granted, thinking life would always be us together.  So many memories of you and Mike as teens still laughing as you sat near the tree opening gifts knowing Santa was really just mom.  I miss your grandparents.  I miss the crazy noises as our house filled with family and friends.  How blessed we were to be surrounded by those we loved.  

As you became a man I looked so forward to seeing your children under the tree, laughing as you did, so full of joy and believing that Santa is real as you and I share a knowing smile.  Fantasies have become my survival as the grief becomes too hard to bear.  

This Christmas I will sit with my memories allowing them to be the balm covering my wounds.  I cherish each one as I grow older I come to understand just how precious those days were never thinking our family chain would be broken.  Know you are loved and never forgotten.  Merry Christmas my beautiful boy.  I thank you for the wonderful gift of memories.  

 

The Empty Chair Is Filled By the Elephant In The Room

November 26, 2025 /

Matt,  tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  I’ve stopped counting how many years it’s been since you’ve been absent.  That number is now in the double digits and too heavy to carry right now.  

Holidays just compound the weight of my grief and that empty chair speaks volumes regarding your non attendance.  

The funny thing is , the elephant in the room resides in your chair.  Everyone knows you’re not here, but they dance around the chair and ignore the elephant.  The conversation spins with subject after subject but no one is brave enough to tackle the elephant and recognize the grief that’s wrapped itself around the table.

No one will bring up your name.  We sit behind smiling masks like actors auditioning for a play.  All the while I want to throw my mask to the ground and scream your name.   I want people to take the time to think of you.  To share stories of past Thanksgivings with you outback along side your brother frying our turkey as I watched your breath makes rings against the frigid air.  I want to talk about how you loved Pumpkin Pie and ate an entire pie by yourself as Ray yelled for you to share.  I want to remember every little thing you did.  I want you to be present even if it’s just in my memories.  

This year my mask will be absent.  This year I really don’t care about tiptoeing around that elephant.  I don’t care who is uncomfortable when I address the elephant letting him know you will never be forgotten and that chair will always belong to you. This Thanksgiving I will be missing a big piece of my heart but the elephant will no longer fill your chair.  My memories will. Until we meet again.  Happy Thanksgiving in Heaven my beautiful boy. 

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