Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Page 2 of 40

Familiar Faces In Unexpected Places.

December 19, 2024 /

Matt,  today I go to drop off toys to a single mom with 3 boys. I was once a single mom and know how tough the world can be but it’s so much harder during the holidays. I have found that giving to others really helps my grieving heart especially this time of year.

These holidays are hitting hard as your 10 year anniversary is January 3rd and I’m struggling to survive those waves of grief. They seem to be getting more and more powerful as we are getting closer to Christmas then New Years then that fateful day when you left us all behind.

I’ve been praying a lot asking God for peace but somedays I feel he is deaf to my prayers.

I felt some joy picking out toys for boys as memories of Christmas shopping for you and Mike so many years ago flooded my brain. Wondering if they believe in Santa and if these toys would put a smile on their faces.

Pulling up outside her residence I see a mom with a little boy. I wave to let her know it’s me. She walks over as I’m opening up my truck and I see this precious little smile on a face that looked so familiar. His hair the color of yours as a boy. The shape of his face, his eyes all yours.  I catch my breath and fight back tears. He says Merry Christmas as I hand mom the bags and continues to smile that precious so familiar smile.

My heart is smiling and screaming as I return to my car unable to stop the flow of tears. Those tears fell all the way home and continue to fall as I think of things that will never be. I got the gift of a glimmer of a child that could have been mine, the child of my child, a grandson I will never hold or make memories with.

Today was both a beautiful blessing and curse. I wonder if God had a hand in the circumstances of this moment. A grieving mother trying to make Christmas a little merry for a single mom who then received the greatest gift of a little boy’s oh so familiar smile.  Oh Matt, how I wish you were here and that little boy was holding your hand and smiling that precious smile as he called me mom-mom.   

I’ve lost so much more than you…………

Holidays Hurt

December 11, 2024 /

 



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….

 

 

 

 

 

 

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…………

 

 

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 

 

 

 

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