A Story of Addiction & Loss

Category: life after child loss (Page 1 of 4)

A Letter To My Son On Mother’s Day

Matt, Mothers Day is two days away. A day I once enjoyed with the women in our family. Mothers like me. I would spend weeks getting my gardens ready, giving the deck a good cleaning and preparing a feast of crabs and beer. There is no celebration for me today, no crabs, beer or company. Only a deep pain that nothing will cure. 

No card or gift has the power to fill the void left by your absence. This is my eighth Mother’s Day without you and I’m still learning how to breathe. I foolishly thought my heart was strong enough to  handle my reality.

My youngest son gone forever. Your demons more powerful than your mother’s love. I realize now that my heart will never be the same. Surviving all the firsts means nothing to me. My heart remains broken beyond repair. This day will remain as a painful reminder that our family is forever changed.

Today I will give myself a gift. I will allow myself the luxury of tears, tears that I hide from the world will be allowed on this most painful day. Tears will come as I close my eyes and remember you as a young boy. Bouncing through the door.  Your face full of pride. Your handmade gift of popsicle sticks painted the colors of beautiful flowers. Your smile filled my heart with joy. You, always so proud of what you made, found or bought for your mom.

Nothing changed as you aged. You always remembered. A card, flowers or a surprise visit. Your body now of a man, but your heart forever young. You were never afraid to hug or say those words, 

“Love you Mom”. We had a bond like no other. Our connecting cord never cut, just stretched by the distance between us.  You living your life by the sea, away from home but never away from my heart.

Now I’m left with precious memories. Cards from Mother’s Day long ago. Treasured pieces of paper signed by you. I run my finger along your words and remember teaching you how to write. 

Never thinking that one day your unique signature would be something left behind that would bring both joy and unbearable pain to my already broken heart. Mother’s Day cards now so precious, knowing that there will be no more.

Mother’s Day, once a day I loved and looked forward to has turned into a day I’d rather forget. I remember the pain of bringing you into this world, I pray I survive the pain of knowing you are gone. If my love had been enough, you would be here sitting beside me surrounded by our family. We would be laughing and hugging. Crabs and beer filling our plates. Stories would be shared as we celebrated three generations of mothers all here sharing the joys of our special day with the children we love.

But today, I will spend time alone. I will allow the memories to overflow in my mind as my tears come without shame. I will close my eyes and see your smiling face. I will talk to you as if you are next to me. I will wonder if you remember. 

I will reaffirm that I will always be your mother, wherever you now live. I pray you will let me feel you with me today. Let me feel your warmth shine down on my face. Be the rays of the sun, hugging my body with your warmth. Be a puffy white cloud or a cardinal in my garden. Be with me in spirit as I remember your love as both a child and a man. My love for you lives on forever. A mother learning to live with a broken heart on her special day. Learning how to live without her child.  One moment, one step, one heart beat at a time.

Love Forever, Mom

Bereaved Mothers Day

With Mothers Day around the corner you can’t go into a store without being swallowed up by Mothers Day gift displays and cards. Commercials are full of suggestions on what to give mothers on their special day.

What if you are a bereaved mother? Where are cards for us? None of us wanted this title. None of us wanted to watch our children leave us behind. None of us wanted to stand in a church listening to stories about our child’s life that ended too soon. None of us wanted to spend birthdays, holidays, and yes, Mothers Day at the cemetery. 💔

Mothers Day for a bereaved mother is filled with heartbreaking, gut wrenching grief. One of the hardest days for many of us. We have lost a piece of our hearts. It has been said that child loss is one of the worst traumas a human being can endure. Yet, here we are enduring another holiday that so many other mothers cherish.

We feel as if the world has walked away. Friends of the past have disappeared. Our grief too heavy a burden for their unknowing hearts. Many feel we should “move on” and forget that our child is gone. After all grief does have a time line until it becomes your grief.

Many of us suffer silently as we hear of others plans for Mothers Day. Many will retreat to a safe space until the day has passed. Whatever we do and how we survive is up to us. It’s ok not to be ok on Mother’s Day.

My wish for you is to know you are not alone. Be kind to yourself on this painful day. Buy yourself flowers or a favorite candle. Bring out the photos of your child and let your love pour over the faces we can no longer touch except in our hearts and minds. Let beautiful memories wash over your soul with its healing balm. Recognize we are still mothers and will be until our lives are gone. We must hold each other up and reach out to other mothers who share our grief.

We must encourage each other to find healing and hope. We must be sensitive and acknowledge that our grief like our love will last forever ♥️

My fellow bereaved moms who have become my dear friends I wish you peace on a day that will bring tears and pain. None of us chose this path but together we will walk each other home into the arms of our loving children.

Hugs and Love,
Matt’s Mom. 🌹

Forever 37 Forever In My Heart 💜

“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain. I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend. But I always thought I’d see you again”.

Matt, tomorrow July 30th is your birthday. I never thought you would be celebrating in heaven 🙏🏻.

Even though it’s been 8 birthdays without you here, my heart still breaks thinking about what could have been. You always loved birthdays. You were the first one to run your finger thru the icing laughing as I tried to slap your hands away. I can still see your smile and hear your laughter as you ducked while sticking your icing covered fingers into your mouth.

Even as an adult You would celebrate like a kid. Blowing out candles and making a wish thinking I didn’t see you sharing cake with the dogs.
You were a boy in a man’s body and I loved that about you.

You should be turning 45 but you are forever 37. I wonder what you would look like today. Would you have any gray starting to show. Would you have a wife and children. What would life be like for both of us had your disease not won. So many unanswered questions dance through my heart and head…

Tomorrow I will honor you. Tomorrow I will spend the day by the sea that you loved. Tomorrow I will help feed the homeless showing them that their life’s matter and they are loved.

Tomorrow we will serve Italian subs, your favorite food and give out 100 backpacks from A Hug From Matt.

Tomorrow tears will be shed but I will continue to follow your lead in helping those the world forgot. I will tell your story and celebrate your life that was cut too short.

Tomorrow and everyday of my life I will celebrate you my beautiful boy.
Happy birthday in heaven. Forever 37. Until we meet again.
Love you forever. Mom ❤️❤️

Pieces of You, Pieces of Me

Matt,   It’s been 82 months since your death and I foolishly thought I was ready to donate your winter clothing to the homeless addicts living in Kensington.   I have become part of a group of mom’s who take trips to the streets providing food and clothing to those who continue to be forgotten by society.   I must say it’s a part of how I survive your death, by giving back to those suffering from the disease that took your life.

I usually avoid your closet, but that day I felt  it was something I was ready to do.   Opening the door was walking back in time.   Sweaters were on hangers as if you were expected to walk through the door, grab one and ask, Hey Mom do I look ok.  

I stood in the doorway waiting for my breath to settle.  It was shocking how my body responded to seeing your clothing.  Slowly I started to take one down.   Memories of you wearing this sweater flooded my brain.   I held it close, burying my face into the softness hoping to breathe in your scent.   I could hear you voice telling me it’s ok Mom, it’s ok.

As I continued to place those sweaters in a box, I was fighting myself as if this was what I really wanted to do.   These sweaters were pieces of what I have left of you.   My mind was battling should they stay or should they go.  I held each one close and saw you wearing them looking so handsome with your beautiful smile letting me know you approved.   I started talking to you asking if this was what you wanted.   

I remember how you were always so giving.   Memories of you giving your shirt to a homeless man prompted me to keep going.   I held each sweater, running my hand over the material before placing them into the box.  I managed to donate several sweaters, a jacket and a pair of pants.  

Driving to the donation event, my tears were flowing wondering if I was strong enough to hand over the box to those who would take your sweaters to the streets handing them out to people who have nothing.   Pulling into the parking lot I was greeting by smiling faces.   Women thanking me for helping take care of other mothers children.   

As I handed over the boxes I had a feeling of profound sadness mixed with joy.   Knowing I was giving away pieces of what I had left of you re -broke my heart.   Knowing that your sweaters would provide comfort to someone with nothing gave me a bit of joy.

Once again I’ve learned that grief knows no time line.   It lives in pieces of clothing that will never be worn by you again.   It lives in memories that surface unexpectedly.   It lives knowing that even doing the right thing can be the most painful thing in the world.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

44 and So Much More

 

Matt, tomorrow, July 30th will be your 44th birthday.  Sadly you no longer live on earth, you were called to heaven seven birthdays ago.  Today my mood changes like the waves of the ocean we both love so much. 

One minute the wave is small and kind.  A memory of you as a child will bring a smile to my soul.  Allowing me to rise above the pain your loss has imprinted on my soul.  Then, without warning the big one comes out of nowhere pulling me out into the grip of the undertows forcing me to fight for my breath as the reality of tomorrow plays havoc on my heart. ❤️

Tomorrow I will be where you were.  I will walk on the beach we once walked on together.  I will feel the ocean breeze on my cheek pretending it is a soft kiss from you.  I will look out over the vastness of the sea wondering if you know I’m here.  Wondering if Heaven really is a beach like we always hoped it would be. I will drive past your house and make sure she is being loved as she was when she belonged to you.  I will allow the memories to come bringing both pain and pleasure as I remember the times we shared together in the house we both loved. 

As night falls, I will search the sky for your sign.  I will search for the brightest star blowing a kiss to the heavens hoping it touches your cheek.  I will say a prayer that you are healthy and healed sharing your birthday with Jesus.  I hope you will feel my love floating from earth to the heavens searching for you.

Oh my beautiful boy, you will never know how much you are missed.  How much you are loved.  How I would do anything to have you standing at the door with the pups at your feet as I park in your driveway.  Grabbing your presents out of my car as you walk closer with those beautiful eyes and amazing smile.  You wrap me in a hug as you try to peek in the bags.  The dogs dancing at our feet as we walk together into our house by the sea.  

I remember the picture I bought when you first moved in.  It was a house on the sea and quoted “Heaven is a little closer in a house by the sea.”   My precious boy how I pray you are in that house in heaven and the sea is your playground.  Until we meet again I will always feel closer to you by the sea. ❤️

Happy birthday my beautiful boy🙏🏻

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