Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Category: Uncategorized (Page 2 of 7)

Signs From Heaven At Christmas

December 24, 2024 /

Matt,   Today I was assembling backpacks for a homeless Christmas outreach and of course I’m thinking of you.  I’ve been doing A Hug From Matt ever since you left me behind.  I do this ministry for the homeless to keep your memory alive and to honor your life.  

As I was going through a bag of new donations I pulled out this hat. I stood there holding it in my hands as memories flooded my mind.  I haven’t seen a Snap On hat for years. I remember you wearing yours in winter.  Snap On gifted you a hat one winter for being a steady customer.  I never knew what became of it.  I never found it when I was going through your things.  

As I hugged the hat to my heart I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was as if I was getting a hug from you.  It was the first time I’ve felt a little bit of joy this holiday season.  The holidays continue to be swirling with grief as I realize it’s another year without you.  I’m trying to believe in signs especially this time of year.  

I try to imagine Christmas in Heaven and what you must be experiencing.  I pray it’s peaceful, full of beauty and joy surrounded by love and light.  

I will miss you everyday of my life.  Merry Christmas in Heaven my beautiful boy.  Thanks for the gift of a hat that carried you to me.  

 

 

 

 

Seasons Change Grief Remains

October 3, 2024 /

Matt,   It’s October 3rd 9 years and 9 months since you left me.  I think of how long it’s been since I’ve seen your face or heard your voice and it still takes my breath away.  

The trees are changing color.  The geese are flying past the house honking as if to say hello we know.  I remember all those times we would be together in the car and see the geese overhead.  We would roll down the windows and listen to the beautiful sound of their voices crying out.  Every time I hear that sound I close my eyes and try to remember your beautiful smile.  

This fall is especially hard.  I guess it’s another season you will never see.  I remember how much you loved fall at the beach.  The weather was still perfect and the crowds you hated were gone.  It was once again you and the pups enjoying the emptiness as you walked through the surf with the dogs by your side.  

I remember so many beautiful days shared by the sea.  We both loved the solitude of just us and the pups.  We had so many conversations about life.  How we both envisioned it to be. Sharing our hopes and dreams.  Little did we know the future would destroy those dreams.  That you would be gone and I’d be left behind trying to make sense out of the pieces left behind.  

I often wonder how I have survived all these years.  It never ceases to shock me that almost ten years have pasted without you in my daily life.  That you are gone, truly gone. 

I’ve been dealing with grief and cancer all wrapped up in one overwhelming upheaval in this life I’ve tried to survive. So now a new season is upon us.  A new season of grief. As Mother Nature turns her page and begins her transformation I ache to go back in time.  To those beautiful, innocent days when our family was whole.  Before the fabric was torn never to be repaired to its original form. 
I’m left with no choice but to walk through this season as I’ve walked through so many others.  Always looking over my shoulder wondering what if 9 years and 9 months ago fate had intervened and saved your life.  What if……….

 

I GET IT

August 15, 2024 /

 

Matt,  I finally understand.   The need to escape the world in which we have nothing but pain and stress.   Until it happened to me I could never comprehend how chronic pain could suck the joy out of life.  I could never understand the power of the anxiety that walks hand in hand with this pain. 

This summer has been a shit show.   June 24th I go to Penn for my 6th month CT.  figuring its been 4 years of clean scans, I was really not thinking anything would have the nerve to pop up after this time.   You know Cancer is a lot like addiction.  It fools you into thinking you are in control then it slaps you in the face with that powerful GOT YA.  

They find a nodule in the base of my right lung.  Seems the little shit has been there for 3 years growing like a nasty weed that you just can’t seem to get rid of.  Now it’s reached the danger zone and something needs to be done.  

So now I have to go through what they call a simulation test.  Sounds so simple, but it’s pure hell.  It’s a combination CT and PET scan where you lay on a hard metal table for what seems like forever.  I remember how after your back surgery you were always so uncomfortable laying on your back.  As I lay there I replayed many conversations we had about your pain.  Still no matter how much you tried to explain to me I never got it.  Well, believe me as I lay there I got it.

The results show a minimal uptake in my spine at the surgical site and that damn little nodule in my lung.  So now it’s an MRI of my spine to rule out recurrence of cancer.  Another 45 minutes on a hard, cold table.  Believe me I got it.

Then a week of panic attacks.  Feeling like I wasn’t going to survive another minute of worry and wondering what fun was coming my way.   

Oh, I found out God does have a sense of humor.  As if I wasn’t stressed out enough, the cat does a ninja warrior move and breaks her leg.  The dog gets sick as well.  So now between running to the vet and having to confine a very active cat who’s now wearing a cast I have very little time to think about me.  Thanks God..

The outcome of all this is more radiation to my already glowing, beat up body.   I remember when you would go for walks with me and you walked like an old man.  Well Matt, I walk like an old lady.  I experience the panic attacks and the anxiety you did.  I remember you taking Xanax to help you cope.  I now take Xanax to help me cope.  

I never understood your struggles until they became mine.  Until I walked that same broken road with the same broken body.  How I wish I could talk to you.  The first thing I would tell you is how sorry I am for not showing you more compassion. For not doing all I could to understand where you were coming from.  I believed you were just taking those pills for the hell of it.  I never realized you were taking those pills to not just survive your life but to get a reprieve from the constant pain.

We are so alike.  I never realized this until you left and my life fell apart.  I can’t tell you how many times I want to call you and spill my guts.  To find ways that we could both survive the pain without having to die seeking relief.  

I know it’s too late, but I wanted you to know that finally I Get It.  

Love Forever,  Mom 

 

 

 

Father’s Day Dreaming

June 16, 2024 /

Matt,  Today is Father’s Day and even though you didn’t live long enough to become a father I still wonder what it would have been like if you had.

You were such an amazing Uncle to your brother’s daughter it often makes me wonder how loving a father you would have been to your own children. 

I also wonder if fatherhood was my dream for you.   If marriage and babies were my dream and not yours.  You had so many opportunities to marry, but you continued to stall your relationships.  You were so loved but you continually decided to remain single.

When I think of you on days like this, I imagine how wonderful it would have been to see you holding your firstborn child.  How watching you look into the face of a life you created would have left a lifelong imprint on your heart  and mine.  How watching you hold a toddlers hand as you introduced him to the sea you loved so much or taking your daughter to pick out her first puppy would have been a beautiful gift we could have shared.  

I think of you walking in my door with towhead mini you’s yelling Mom we’re here.  I close my eyes and imagine the joy of hugging little versions of you in my arms.  How wonderful life would have been if my dreams for you came true.  If life would have taken the road I had planned on, not the road that led to this empty space in my heart.  

Sadly, reality leaves my dreams all I have as I think of the what ifs on Father’s Day.  You will never know the joy of loving someone with your entire heart and soul.  You were robbed of the absolute joy of watching your child grow and change year after year.   You were robbed of tee ball games, of birthdays, of boyfriends and girlfriends.  You were robbed of walking your daughter down the aisle or toasting your son on his wedding day.  

Oh Matt, your addiction stole so much from us both and now all I have to hold on to is  my fantasy of a family and a future that was never to be.  It all died with you my beautiful boy.  

 

 

You Are My Starfish

March 2, 2024 /

 

Matt, I wrote this for you.. 

In all my years of walking on the beach I’ve never found a starfish until yesterday. I felt like a child again as I picked up this fragile, precious creature and held it in my hand. I could feel the tickle as its tiny fingers tried to attach itself to my hand. It was such an incredible moment just standing there holding this incredible creature.

I began to think of the Starfish Story. The one where the little girl was on the beach throwing as many starfish back into the ocean when she is approached by a man. He asks why she is wasting her time as she can’t save them all. As there are thousands along the beach. He tells her she can’t possibly make a difference. The young girl listened as she bent down picking up another and throwing it into the sea. I made a difference for that one she replied to the man.

As I stood there recalling that story I began to cry. I started to think of Matt and all our children as starfish. How so many never made it back to the sea. How people ignored them. Walking right by without a helping hand or kind word. How so many Shunned them and stigmatized their disease.

I thought of the insurance company as that man who tried to discourage the girl from saving them. How those so called professionals told us to practice tough love letting our precious starfish suffer to survive.

I thought of us as the welcoming sea. Always there, always reaching, pushing harder and further until we could grab them and hold on to them placing them safely back to our sea.

I held that perfect, precious creature in my hand and told Matt I was so sorry for not knowing how to save him. For not being that perfect parent who had all the answers. I made a promise to him that this tiny creature would never struggle to live as I knew how to save him.

I walked out into the freezing sea, I stroked the starfish and said a prayer. I prayed that it would survive and would somehow understand that I would never walk by knowing that I could make a difference 

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