A Story of Addiction & Loss

Category: grief (Page 1 of 13)

Walking On Thin Ice

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  

 

My Reflections on Trail of Truth.

I remember being home watching the weather like a hawk scans the sky for prey.  I kept thinking how could the report of a strong nor-easter possibly be true as I sat feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.  

The next morning I woke to a gray day.  I felt the weather was mimicking my soul as my husband said goodbye at the train station.  I could feel the wind beginning to strengthen as I stood on the platform with my friend who decided she wanted to brave the weather after hearing me try to explain the impact of the memorial ceremony to others when there really are no words that could describe the slap to your heart as you stood amongst the angels.

So here we were the three of us sitting together on the train heading to D.C. to be among those involved in bringing awareness to the pandemic that continues to destroy families and lives.  You see, Nicole lost her husband last year and is now a single mom to her beautiful daughter, Chloe.

As the train sped toward our destination, I could feel my anxiety growing.  Memories flooded my brain of my first trip to D.C. 9 months after losing my son, Matt in 2015.  How naive I was then thinking this epidemic would never continue.  I truly believed that losing 42,000 people in 2015 would be enough for those in power to shut down the Pharmaceutical Companies responsible for the carnage. That lawmakers and doctors would be punished for their part in this terrible tragedy that created a disease of massive proportions.

As we arrived at Union Station I felt a calm beginning to settle my heart.  I felt like I was where I was meant to be.  

Walking into the Yotel was like coming home after a long absence. Hearing my name and being surrounded by other mamas who’s faces were so familiar yet now they were in my space and we shared moments of joy mixed with grief as we wrapped each other up in warm, loving hugs.  

Our eyes all reflecting a similar emotion.  No one wanted to be here, but because our hearts were shattered by loss we knew we had to be here to let the country know our children continue to live through us.

The storm was kind to us on Friday allowing our activities to continue as planned.  First the DOJ rally.  The power of being among so many incredible advocates was palpable.  The energy flowed through the crowd.  Our chants stopped passerby’s who asked what we were doing.  I was proud to tell Matt’s story as they listened and offered condolences and compassion.  Sharing their lives had also been touched by this tragedy.

My friend Jen gave a powerful speech telling her story of Christopher as I listened I was moved to tears.  So many who’s stories shared similarities of hope and heartbreak.  

Friday night Susans vigil was held at Union Square.  Once again we came together as one body of broken people holding on to each other as stories were shared.  I was blessed to share Matt’s story with the crowd.  Candles were glowing in the dark representing the lives of our loved ones whose 

lights we will never allow to burn out.

I could hear the rain and wind before I got out of bed Saturday morning.  Ophelia obviously had no idea who she was dealing with as she pummeled D.C. with all her force.  A group had gathered outside our room accessing what we were up against.  We laughed out loud knowing that we had all walked through hell and survived. 

A group of us gathered for breakfast holding our rain gear and making plans to brave the storm. There was no way we were going to allow this storm to stop us from being among our angels.

I tried to prepare my friend for the impact but I knew from experience there truly are no words.  I watched her walk among the Delaware people searching for her husbands stone.  Tears falling as she held her daughter’s hand looking for Daddy.  Our eyes met and I knew she felt it.  I knew the impact found her soul ripping it apart once again.  The sky opened up as we both searched, her for Walt, me for Matt.  I knew there was no way we were giving up in spite of high winds and heavy rain.  

Finding Matt, seeing his handsome face stopped me in my tracks. I felt like the earth beneath my feet split open.  I prayed for it to swallow me, to take me to a place where grief could never find me.  To give me a reprieve from this excruciating pain that had become my life.  I heard a guttural cry escape from my soul.  I felt arms wrapping around me as another mom heard and came to hold me up.  Never could I have anticipated my response.  The rawness of the grief.  

I knew I was spent. I wanted to run.  Then I saw my friends face and knew she found her husband.  She knew. I knew.  We were both experiencing, living the impact our team had hoped for when forming the Trail of Truth.

Saying goodbye Sunday morning was tough.  I felt surrounded by those who get me.  I felt like we were all kindred spirits finding each other again. 

I still have found no words to describe the feeling when you walk among angels.  As we boarded the train to Delaware my friend leaned over and said you were right.  No words……..💔💔

Disbelieving While Grieving

Matt,  it’s been 8 years and one month since you left this earth and I still find myself in disbelief.   January always hits me the hardest as it’s the beginning of another year but it’s also when you left. 

Somedays I allow myself to pretend you are enjoying the beautiful weather in Florida.  Spending time on the beach relaxing with friends. Then reality will sneak up on me and I feel the weight of grief hit my heart.

The other day I was grocery shopping and saw a can of Beef A Roni.  I had to stop for a moment as the memory of  sending you care packages of food came flooding back leaving me shaken.  

I find myself longing to talk to you.  To hear your voice, to see your smile.  I know so many years have passed but the reality of life is just so unbearable that’s it’s easier to sink into the fantasy that you are alive.  

I have days where I just sit and tell myself that you are really gone.  That what’s left of you sits in an urn on my shelf next to the last picture taken while you were alive.  It’s still seems so surreal and I have such a hard time wrapping my head around this truth that has become my life.  

I’ve read that losing a child is the most devastating experience a parent can live through, I’m finding it’s also the most unbelievable.  I look at pictures of you as a young child and wonder how did this happen.  How did your life end before mine?  Losing a child goes against what we are taught to be the natural order of things.  Children bury their parents not the other way around.  

I know that as long as I live I will carry my grief over losing you but now this disbelief had snuck into the open cracks in my heart.  It appears to have moved in and has no intentions of ever leaving.  Until we meet again I will carry you in my heart………….

 

Fractured

Matt,  the holidays are approaching and I feel like I’m drowning.

I’m surprised that after surviving 8 years of holidays without you my heart continues to ache. 

There are so many things I’m trying to juggle.  I feel like letting those balls shatter on the ground while I walk away from it all. Time I’ve found is no help as the holidays coming remain as brutal as ever.  

I feel like I’m fractured.  Broken in half.  The before and after, the then and now dance through my mind everyday.  Memories of what used to be.  The laughter, the love, the togetherness fractured like my soul.  

The Monday before Thanksgiving I have my CT scan looking for any sign of returning cancer.  The thought takes my breath away as I remember the healthy me before that dreaded C word became a part of my life.  The holidays were tough enough without this hanging over my head.  Grieving you, grieving me, grieving the holidays that used to be.

Your brother is distant.  I know he shares my grief.  I had hoped we could be a comfort to each other as time went on.  I had hoped that my diagnosis would have us clinging to each other as we are all that’s left of us. Sadly the opposite is true.  I grieve for the relationship I Imagined but do not have.  I wonder if I will survive long enough to see it change.

If someone had told me I’d be living this life I would have laughed and walked away.  Never in my wildest dreams did I see this coming.  Never did I think your addiction would be fatal and our dreams for the future would be crushed on that cruel, cold, January morning so many years ago. 

Never did I think I would be struggling to find my footing on unstable ground.  Never did I think my world would be so unbelievably full of sadness that time is powerless to heal.  I saw things so differently when I thought about life and growing older.  I saw family celebrating the holidays together.  I heard laughter, imagined smiling faces as we gathered around the Thanksgiving table.  I imagined a life of making new memories as the holidays came and went.  

The reality is your death fractured my life.  Blindsided us both, crushing the future I envisioned.  Now, I continue to hold onto memories hoping they become a healing balm soothing my raw edges allowing peace to enter and carry me through life without you  💔

 

Haunted By A Hug

Matt,   After all this time my brain continues to go back to the memory of our last hug.   You were staying at a treatment facility in Pennsylvania and it was visiting day.   

I remember seeing you walk toward me as I sat outside waiting for you to join me.  I remember thinking how great you looked.   How clear your eyes were.   How your smile lit up your face.   How healthy you looked and how great it was to be wrapped up in your bear hug.

We sat and talked about your future.   You talked about finally having that monkey off your back.   You were so excited to begin a new life in a sober home in Florida.   Although I was not in favor of you moving so far away from your family,  your excitement was contagious and I finally got on board.

I felt that you deserved a fresh start and you always loved living by the sea.   I remember thinking how great it would be for you to leave the cold weather behind and enjoy life under the warmth of the Florida sun.

Never did I think our last hug goodbye would be the last hug.   That 6 months later you would be gone.   That monkey followed you to the sea you so loved and took you from me.

Now I sit with closed eyes and remember.   I remember feeling your breath on my hair.   I remember the smell of your clothes.   The Axe body spray was your signature scent.  To this day I fight the impulse to spray the scent as I walk by the aisle full of mens body products knowing that if I do I will fight to remain in control of my emotions.

Oh how I wish we were given the chance to spend more time hugging.   More time talking about the hopes and dreams we both had thinking your disease was under control.   How I wish I had more time to tell you how proud I was of you.   How I loved you unconditionally through your addiction and the aspirations I now had for you in your recovery.

The memory of that hug now haunts me.   How I wish I knew then what I know now.   How I wish I held on longer and never let you go………

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