Matt, I wish I could get back to feeling normal. It’s been so long I don’t even remember how it felt. I’m now on my 3rd anti anxiety med and feel like crap. Everything is just so off. I feel like an experiment in the medical field. If this doesn’t work try this. Oh wait, that’s not working either then try this.
I had my CT scans and thank God they found no evidence of recurrence but my blood work showed that my parathyroid is being a little funky. I’ve learned that can also make you feel off so I’m feeling very defeated.
So, now it’s back to Penn to add another doctor to my list. I swear since you died the list just keeps growing. I’ve acquired a cardiologist now I’m adding an endocrinologist. How much fun can a girl possibly have.
It seems my body has taken a beating from the unending grief. Your ten year anniversary just set me in a tailspin and now my body is revolting against me. At least that’s how it feels.
I was so hoping to just enjoy the spring and summer as the weather is finally cooperating and Mother Nature is showing her beauty. But it seems my body might have different plans.
So now it’s more tests and only God knows what is going to happen.
There are days I truly understand your addiction. Days where I would love to have a magic pill to make this all go away. I wish I had taken the time to understand how you were feeling mentally rather than fighting with you to just stop. For that I will be eternally sorry.
I have so many regrets and even after ten years they still creep up and haunt me. I wish we had just an hour of time where that veil between where you are and where I am could be lifted.
Perhaps one day that conversation will come but for now I’m praying that this puzzle of my health will get solved and life will return to my new normal without you. Love you forever.
Category: complicated grief (Page 1 of 9)
Matt, January was a tough month for me. First it was losing Scarlett right after Christmas, then your tenth anniversary, then my CT scans were all piled up on my literally breaking shoulders.
I felt so overwhelmed. My heart kept racing or skipping beats. That familiar tightness in my throat found me again. I became a walking mess as I tried to navigate through these emotional moments in time.
Honestly, I’m still feeling off. Like I just can’t hit my reset button like I always could in the past. I’m finding my coping mechanisms are just not kicking into gear and my anxiety continues to greet me everyday with some new challenges.
I’m thinking this ten year mark has just hit me harder than I could have ever imagined. Thinking of all you have missed here on earth. Thinking I haven’t seen you or heard your voice for what seems to be an eternity is becoming too much to bear.
I had a meltdown yesterday as those feelings began to overwhelm me and my anxiety beat me into the depths of despair. I cried for all you have missed. For all I should have said and done. I just cried for the unfairness of it all. I cried and cried for both of us and for all those dreams that were crushed by your death.
I feel like I’ve lost both my boys. Your brother barely speaks to me. I know he is grieving your loss but I really just need to hear his voice and share memories of you with him. We are all that’s left of our original family. He’s the only one who shared our story who is still here on earth. He’s the only person who loves you like I do.
Somedays I feel so defeated. I can’t believe this is my life. I miss who I used to be. I miss the future I envisioned for our family. Both my boys married with children. Weekend get togethers. Bonfires on the beach with kids and dogs running on the sand. So many dreams now gone up in smoke.
I pray for you everyday. That you have found your peace. That you are surrounded by love, light and beauty. That you have been reunited with our family and your pets and that you have met Jesus. I pray for my peace and healing as this grief journey becomes harder to navigate.
I really don’t know what else to do. I can tell you time doesn’t make a difference all is does is make me wonder how I have survived this long without you here.
I wish you peace. Until we meet again. Love you forever Mom
Matt, Christmas is in 14 days and I feel like I’m trudging through quicksand. Going through the motions while shaking inside.
Once again the Hallmark Christmas movies are playing daily portraying the perfect family and of course the perfect holiday season.
No one talks about the real life reality that not everyone is looking forward to the celebration, the parties, noise and all the hoopla that seems to be everywhere. You can’t go anywhere without hearing holiday music not even the grocery store.
This year seems to be hitting especially hard. I keep wishing I could turn back time, knowing how little time we had left I would have bought you a plane ticket making sure you were here surrounded by family. I would have never let you go back to Florida. We would have figured out a plan but every time I talked to you all I heard was how much you loved being warm and by the sea. Little did I know that would be our last time sharing Christmas conversation even if it was only by phone
I look back thinking of all the things I would have done differently. It’s like torture. Hindsight is a horrible thing. It all becomes so clear after the fact, but remains so blurry in the thick of things.
I wonder what Christmas is like in Heaven. Are you surrounded by peace and joy. Is it beautiful? Have you been reunited with family members? Can you see how hard it is for me?
One thing I know for sure is I will miss you forever. Your smile on Christmas morning as you opened your gifts. Hearing your laughter intermingled with your brothers. Watching your pleasure as you gave your pups their toys. Hearing your voice saying Merry Christmas Mom love you.
This year I will hold you in my heart especially tight allowing those memories to sustain me as I struggle through another Christmas without you my beautiful boy….
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.
Matt, we’ve passed the 9 year mark of me surviving your death. For some reason, this 9th year has hit me harder than I could have ever imagined.
I continue to struggle with the fact that time has flown by. My mind knows but my heart continues with disbelief. It almost feels like that horrible second year, when the reality replaced the fog and the weight of grief settled into my heart.
I was a guest on a podcast about grief yesterday. So many of the topics we discussed hit home for me. We talked about society and how it places a time limit on grief. Sadly, most people who feel that grief has its limitations have never suffered the devastating loss of a child.
We also discussed many faucets of grief such as the fear of not remembering the sound of our loved one voice. Matt, that is one of my biggest fears. You never left me voice mails. Texting was your form of communication. Believe me, I have screenshotted all of your text messages and treasure each one. But what I crave is to hear your voice once again.
There are days when I sit quietly by myself, closing my eyes. I try to conjure up your face, your smile, and your voice. Some days it all comes rushing back. Other times I feel like you are drifting farther and farther away. Those days I feel a panic set in as I never want to ever forget anything about you. Sadly, the brain can only hold so much memory. Grief brain is capable of so much less.
This year will be a bigger challenge than I could have ever imagined. There is no truth in the statement that the passage of time heals. For me the passage of time is a tragedy as I struggle to remember the essence of you. ❤️
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