Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Page 9 of 43

You Are The Light

June 22, 2023 /

Matt,   The project named IntoLight was started by a mom like me who also lost her son from an opioid overdose.  This mom is also an artist and to find her peace she began to draw her son’s pictures during different phases of his life.  I guess she felt closer to him as I do to you writing this blog.  

One day she decided to start drawing portraits of other mothers children who like her son have died from an overdose.  When I met her she told me she wanted to humanize addiction and hoped that when people visited the art exhibit they would be moved by all the beautiful faces staring back at them. 


The exhibit opened on a Thursday night.  I was amazed at how many people were attending.  Sadly so many were members of my support group and had become dear friends.  

As we gathered together in the lobby I could feel the anxiety and sadness in the crowd.  It was almost palpable.   No one really wanted to be there. What we wanted was our children to be alive and well.  We wanted more birthdays,  more adventures, more time.   But we were all robbed of those dreams and now the reality of life was upon us again.  

The exhibit was on the second floor.   I remember climbing the stairs surrounded by so many familiar faces,  those faces trying so hard to conceal the pain that flowed through our hearts as we knew that soon we would be facing those portraits of our beloved children.  

The portraits were arranged A-Z  making it easy for everyone to find their loved one’s location.  As I walked through the door I was immediately aware of my mask starting to crack.  I wear this mask in public to pretend that I’m ok.  To keep those at a distance who will look at me in pity or with shameless contempt when they hear your story. 

I slowly made my way around the room.  I was in awe of the hauntingly beautiful eyes, smiles and faces staring back at me.  So many were the children of my friends.  I recognized their faces from pictures shared during our support group, but seeing them all grouped together was an entirely different experience.  Their portraits took on an essence that a photo could never capture.

Before I knew it, I was looking directly into your eyes.  I felt my breath catch in my throat.  I wasn’t prepared for my body’s response to seeing your handsome face staring back at me.  I felt as if you were there standing next to me as I searched your face imprinting your image upon my brain.  It was as if time stood still and I could feel your soul reuniting with mine.  Although I was surrounded my many I felt enveloped in a cocoon of sadness, silence and peace.  

Leaving the exhibit, I felt as if I was leaving a piece of my heart behind.   The last thing I ever dreamed of or wanted was to have a beautiful portrait of you hanging on a wall in an art museum project that is attempting to bring awareness to and humanize the disease that would sadly end your life.  

I will continue to look to you to light my path as I continue my journey alone.  My grief brings darkness but you my beautiful boy will always be my guiding light. 

 

A Letter To My Son On Mother’s Day

May 12, 2023 /

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

May 5, 2023 /

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. 🌹

99 Months

April 11, 2023 /

 

Matt,  99 months.  My brain counts the months as my heart screams how can this be.  How can it be true that life has continued to march on and I have been drug along in my grief.  How can this grief continue to bring me to my knees?  To make me want to scream from the rooftops that I am in so much pain?  How can all this time have passed yet still feel like yesterday?

Perhaps it’s because Easter has come and gone.  Another holiday without you.  Perhaps it’s the memories that continue to haunt me of past celebrations.  Two boys with chocolate faces and hands running through the yard Easter baskets swinging from their arms as laughter filled the air.

Perhaps it’s the memories of two men laughing as they walked in my door seeing Easter baskets filled with the same chocolate they loved as boys.  

Perhaps it’s the silence that has replaced the laughter, that silence is deafening as the grief is powerful.    The silence from your brother.  The silence of those who have passed on.  The silence haunts my heart and leaves my soul empty.

Yet, I have good days.  Days where I cope well.  Days I find joy in little things.  Flowers blooming in my garden.  The dogs chasing a squirrel through the yard.  An unexpected phone call from a friend.  A clear Cat Scan.

I guess you could say I’ve learned to cope, to handle the pain.  Sadly when I think of how long you have been gone, how long I’ve had to bear this grief that’s when my reality begins to haunt my heart leaving me breathless and wanting to scream.

Some say Silence is golden.  I think of what I wouldn’t give to hear the shouting, the laughter, the voices of two little boys whose smiles were covered with chocolate……..

 

Just A Car But So Much More

March 16, 2023 /

Matt,   The day finally came.   I could come up with no more excuses.   My car was 18 years old and starting to have major problems.   Ray had been after me for over a year to trade her in and get something newer with all the bells and whistles my sweet girl didn’t have.  I kept putting it off.  Not even wanting to glance at anything he would find that he thought I might warm up to.  

First I used my cancer.  Hell, If I could get something positive out of this complicated disease, I used it to stop the purchase of a new car which meant trading in a piece of my heart.  I kept telling him after the next scan I’d start to think about it, then the next scan, then the next.  Finally after my February scan my oncologist said lets spread them out I’m not worried about letting you go longer between scans.   Talk about a double edged sword.  Yes I was praising God for the great news but deep down I was starting to mourn what I knew was coming.

It didn’t take long to find her replacement.  A brand new Toyota Rav 4 was coming into the dealership within a few weeks.  She was mine……

I felt like I was betraying the 4 Runner and all the memories she held for me over the years.  The two of us driving the dogs to the beach.  Laughter and wild barking from our back seat passengers as they bolted out the door running toward the surf.  The smell of salty, wet dogs and us covered with sand after trying to corral them into the back seat for the return home.  

The smell of crabs we caught after spending the day at the bay.  You kept throwing live ones on my seat howling as I would scream and run around the car.  So many deep conversations we shared about your addiction as I held you captive with those childproof locks.  Many trips with you cussing as I drove you to another treatment facility tears running down my face as I continued to tell you how much I loved you and needed you to live.

Walking through the beach house together picking out what would come home and what would be sold when we knew you had lost everything we both loved.  Loading those memories of sunny days, long walks and so much love into the back of my 4 Runner.  Watching tears roll down your face as we pulled away from our heaven on earth for the last time.

Memories of driving to church together I can close my eyes and see you sitting in the passenger seat.  I could smell your Phoenix scent.  I could picture you holding Scarlett in your lap after we rescued her together.  Our love of animals was just another quality that bonded us together.

My car was another connection to you.   On bad days as the grief was hitting I swore I could smell Phoenix flowing through the air.  I could see you sitting beside me looking my way with that smile on your face.   

The drive to the dealership was brutal.  My tears were uncontrollable.  I wanted to shout stop I can’t do this.  I felt like I was losing another piece of a connection to you that I could mentally not afford to lose.   Ray kept saying I was the only person he knew that was crying because she was getting a new car.  Ray has no clue as to what that old girl meant to me.  To the memories she held within those 4 doors.  To the connection to you that’s comforted me these last eight years.

In between my tears I managed to snap a shot of her being driven away.  My memorial to you now a snapshot that will forever be imbedded in my heart…..

 

 

« Older posts Newer posts »
July 2026
M T W T F S S
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

© 2026 Mother's Heartbreak

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑