Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Category: Grief hitting as waves

Empy Shoes, Shattered Lives

November 10, 2024 /

Matt,   These last couple of weeks have just been so hard.   Halloween was 10 days ago and all those memories of you and Mike as little boys running around in costumes waiting for it to get dark enough for you to grab your bags and run down the path into the neighborhood.  I remember having to tell you both to slow down and wait for me..  Even as an adult your love for Halloween continued and you would put your rubber mask on before you answered the door to hand out the candy.  I remember the squeal of the little kids when you jumped out onto the step and yelled Boo.

It never fails, every year there are two little boys just like you and Mike both towhead blonds who come together holding their little candy bags yelling trick or treat.  When I open the door to their smiling faces, I feel that gut punch and  those tears forming.   This year I was able to hold them at bay until they turned to walk away.  I shut the door, sat on the couch and allowed that grief to flow…

Today, I attended the 2nd Annual Empty Shoe Project.   I had helped my friends set up the night before trying to stay involved in the busyness of setting up the posters along side the empty shoes.  As hard as I fought that lump began to form in my throat, that heaviness of grief started to wrap itself around my soul as it knew I was powerless at stopping it.

As I walked in those doors this morning, I felt that familiar weight of grief, loss and despair.  Scanning the room for familiar faces I recognized the look in their eyes.  Parents whose masks were crumbling as they tried so hard to put on the brave faces we wear every day.  We know each others stories as we share a bond and belong to a club not one of us would ever join or even want to know existed.  Yet here we were together walking among our angels holding each other up as one by one the masks crashed to the ground.

527 pairs of empty shoes sat among the beautiful smiles, the shining eyes, the handsome faces, the perfect little pouts.  Short stories of their lives allowing us to see a bit of what remarkable human beings they were.  Their dreams, their hopes, their love for life all swept away by the power of their disease. 

Seeing you among them continues to take my breath away.   I stare at your beautiful face and hear my mind screaming WHY?  People ask if I’m ok and for once I feel free to speak my truth.   NO, I am not and will never be ok.  I know everyone in that room is not and will never be ok.  

We are the broken ones.  The shattered ones.  The ones left behind to pick up the pieces.  We are the memory keepers, the voices, the ones trying to piece together a tapestry that will always be unrepairable.   A mosaic that will always be missing a beautiful piece of glass.  

As the event was ending we each picked up our signs, shared hugs, and shed tears knowing that we are not alone in this unending grief.  We are a community of angel parents who as long as we live will never let our beautiful children be forgotten.  

Until I hold you in my arms, I hold you in my heart…………

 

 

Beautifully Bittersweet

May 25, 2024 /

Matt,   When I learned the circumstances of your death, I knew I could never stay silent.   What I really wanted to do was fly to Florida and punch the owner of your shoddy sober home in the face.  I wanted him to hear your name and see the face of your grieving mother and then I wanted to tell him what he told me, “People die here everyday.”   I wanted to look him in his eyes and say well, well, today is your day.  

I can’t put into words what that information did to my soul, but it fueled me into months of research of how sober homes operated.   Months and months of research speaking to advocates from many states sadly revealed that dumping people who have relapsed into the street in the middle of the night with no available help or support was common practice.   Learning this I knew I would never find my peace until laws were passed to protect people at a vulnerable time in their lives.   This became my mission.   These people became my Matt’s.

I became obsessed with this project.  The more I researched, the angrier I became.  To think many sober home operators used people suffering from Substance use as a means of disposable income fueled my desire to put a stop to this evil practice.   How dare anyone treat a human life as it was disposable.   It happened to you and I have to live with that every day.   The only way to find peace was to punish the people responsible.

After I had a folder thick as a phone book containing all the research on sober homes, I called my House Representative.  I asked her to meet for coffee.  When I showed her the folder and shared your story I could see the disgust in her eyes.   Her words were music to my ears.   “We Will Fix This,” became our battle cry.

After almost 5 years of advocating and fighting to get this Bill right, riding the roller coaster from happiness to disappointment, through many challenges and changes HB 114, The Matthew D. Klosowski Act was passed unanimously in both the House and Senate on the very last day of the 2023 Legislative session.   You my beautiful boy were the catalyst that will change the trajectory of how sober homes will be allowed to operate in our state of Delaware forever.

Last week, we were honored as the First State Alliance of Recovery Residences had their certification kick off as they certified a home for women in recovery.   Oh how I wish I could have shared that moment with you.   Senators and House Members were saying your name and sharing your story.   Congratulating me for fighting for so long to get this dream of mine to become a reality.   There will be no more treating people as if their lives didn’t matter.   No more kicking people out in the street to die.   

We were given an award.   Honoring us both.   I fought hard to hold back the tears as I spoke to the crowd.  Oh how I wished it was your face I was seeing among so many people who came to attend the ceremony.   I hope you were there.  I hope you felt my love for you souring through the sky from my heart to yours.   I hope you know how much you are loved and missed.   How time has not made a difference in the void in my heart.  

I can assure you this my beautiful boy,  you have a legacy that will stand the test of time.  Your name is forever in the Law books in our state of Delaware.   One hundred years from now people will look up HB 114 and see your name.   Your story and how your death was not in vain.   How your death fueled my grief to find a little slice of beauty from the brokenness you left behind.   Godspeed until I hold you in my arms, you are forever in my heart.   

 

 

Some Days

April 25, 2024 /

Matt,  I really don’t know what brings on this deep feeling of loss.  Some days I feel like I’m doing ok, then boom a memory will hit and then I’m gone.  

Erin got married last weekend.  She had a memorial table set up with pictures of all our family members who are no longer here.  Seeing your smiling face staring back at me was like a cold slap of reality, acknowledging that I would never dance at your wedding.  
I tried to hide my tears, but I was powerless.  

I kept thinking what a blast you would have had with Tommy, Mel’s boyfriend.  He has your same sense of humor.  Your quick wit and mannerisms.  As I watched them interact I kept wondering what it would have been like to have you there dancing and laughing together. 

I remembered you being the best man at your brother’s wedding. You raising your glass in a toast that had everyone cracking up.  You on the dance floor with all the single girls.  

I felt like I was in two different worlds.  The one where you existed and this broken world where you do not.  
These family events are always bittersweet.  Reminding me of what could have been but no longer is.  Even though years have passed, your loss is as fresh as it was the moment I heard you left me behind.  

Joy is intermingled with the pain of your absence.  I’ve learned life goes on.  People live their lives.  But one thing I know for certain is I will carry you in my heart forever….

WAVES

March 19, 2024 /

Matt,  I spent two weeks in Florida, it was both beautiful and bittersweet.  Since your death I look at everything differently.  Walking on the beach one day watching the waves I realized how those waves mimic the waves of grief.  

I wrote this piece putting my thoughts into words………..

After losing Matt, I look at life differently. As if I see simple things that are very familiar but now my lense has shifted and I see them in a different light..
I never found a connection to ocean waves. They were something to run from, jump through or ride until they dissipated hitting the shore.

Today as I walked on the beach I found myself focusing on how they remind me so much of grief. Their sizes vary. Some are small, with little power to knock you to your knees. These waves hit daily and I can easily navigate my way through. They hit during a song or as a memory surfaces. They find me in the grocery store when I see a can of Beef A Roni knowing I have no need to buy again and send in a care package to Florida. These waves cause me to stop, telling myself to breathe that the tightness in my throat will pass.

The size of waves are constantly changing. We see them building on the horizon. As birthdays and anniversaries are approaching these waves are a churning power ready to drag us to our knees. These are the waves that hit without warning. When I think I can get through. That I’m walking on stable ground undermining how the waves suck the shore from beneath my feet reminding me that no ground is stable when those waves are hitting.

As I continued to watch the sea in its constant motion, my attention focused on those huge waves churning and crashing in the distance. Those waves are the killers. The ones that bring us to our knees, fighting for air, fighting to survive the sensation of being sucked under and powerless to surface in time. Those waves come when reality hits and we realize they are really not coming back. There are no more love you Mom, see you laters, texts or phone calls. When ordinary pictures become precious treasures that we guard with our lives. Those are the what if waves, the how did this happen waves, this is now life waves…..

Those are the waves I’ve learned I cannot fight. I need to survive however I can. I’ve learned the harder I fight the more powerful the waves become. I realize I’m drowning and I need to let it happen. I need to allow that hopeless
feeling to wash over me. I need to scream, to sob, to let my grief wash over me as the ocean pounds the shore until I am spent, allowing myself to surface,to float, to breathe.

Before loss, those waves were just how the ocean was churning that day. I found them calming and beautiful. Never in all my days of walking on the beach did I ever identify with how terrifying and relentless a simple wave could become as you walk the path of grief…….

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