Mother's Heartbreak

A Story of Addiction & Loss

Tag: loss of son (Page 1 of 3)

An Unfinished Life

May 7, 2026 /

Matt, Sunday is Mother’s Day and I can feel the weight of my grief seeping in.   I’m trying to stay busy, but the weather is mimicking my heart and it’s too chilly to do anything outdoors. 

Being retired doesn’t help.  The time I wish I had while I was working now seems to be an endless void of activity.   There’s only so much that needs to be done at the house giving me time to remember and regret decisions made that led us to where we are today.   You are gone and I’m left with this profound sadness.

I remember you as a child.  I’ll be hit with a memory of us on the beach or playing miniature golf.  I see you so clearly in my mind.  I want to reach out and hold you in my arms and pray to rewind time.  I want to be in charge again.  I want to keep you safe.  

I always wonder how things would be today.  If we would still have the close relationship we had.  I think about how amazing it would be to have you here married with children.   To have you and Mike both here with your families sharing life’s events as brothers do.  

You have missed so much since you’ve been gone.  Some good, some bad.  I was diagnosed with cancer and have had 2 surgeries and radiation.  It’s been a scary experience and there were so many days I just wanted to talk to you and have you tell me it would all be ok.  I wanted to just feel your hug and hear your voice.  

Madison married her best friend, Jake.  She was a beautiful bride.  I couldn’t contain my tears as I saw your picture on the memorial table.  I had to take a breath and think of anything but you to survive that moment.  Seeing Mike give her away my thoughts again drifted to you and how you should have been sitting with your wife at your brother’s  table.  

Erin and Dan had their first child.  A precious boy they named Milo.   You are an Uncle and didn’t have the chance to celebrate the new arrival in our family.  

Matt,  your life was so unfinished.  You’ve missed out on so many wonderful things.  So much of life you never got to experience.  We will never know what you could have done in the eleven years you’ve been gone.   It fills me with sadness thinking that you are forever missing out on so many wonderful things happening in our lives.  I will always cherish the memories we made and forever grieve the memories we will never have.  

Until we meet again, you are forever in my thoughts and heart.  

 

Father’s Day Fantasy

June 19, 2022 /

Matt,  today is Father’s Day and I’m allowing my mind to go into the fantasy world I’ve created when reality becomes too harsh for me to bear.  I’m allowing myself to imagine that you are alive enjoying the blessings of being a dad.

I can see you at the beach, your happy place walking along the surf holding the hands of two beautiful children.  They have your sun bleached hair, your beautiful eyes and that amazing smile that makes them your mini me’s.

I can see you chasing them through the surf laughing as they grab handfuls of sand tossing them in the air trying to make you their target. 

I see a black lab frolicking at your feet, tail wagging as she runs along side your beautiful children.  I see two precious boys looking into your eyes knowing those same eyes are staring back at the precious babes who stole your heart and soul. 

I see you wrapping them in beach towels holding them close, pulling them closer in one of your famous hugs.  I see my youngest son, now a father finally knowing the love that surpasses understanding as only one who has  fathered a child could ever understand. 

I see you carrying them home.  Making their favorite snack and tucking them in for a nap.  I see you staring at those faces so much like yours feeling your heart explode with pride. 

I see them running towards me when I visit. Taking my breath away as memories of you at their age flood my mind. I close my eyes and picture so many beautiful scenes of us together sharing stories and remembering our times with you and your brother at our happy place..

How I wish my fantasies were my reality.  How I wish you left a piece of yourself behind for me to love.  How I wish I could look into your beautiful eyes and hold your precious children close to my heart. 

Reality is harsh.  Days that mark milestones continue to break me to my core.  Fantasies have become my way of coping. Knowing you never had the chance to experience the joys of fatherhood has left a crack in my soul.  Knowing we have missed out on so much of life is a heavy burden to bear.  

The trickle down losses never go away.  Birthdays, holidays and now Father’s Day leave me wondering how I will survive.  Losing you was losing a future I had envisioned since your childhood. The normal progression of life was shattered with your death. You took so much more than I could have ever imagined.  ❤️

Some Days You Just Have To Cry

June 3, 2021 /

Matt,   Memorial Day weekend has come and gone.   The weather mimicking my soul.  The day was cold and dreary.   A typical Memorial Day weekend in Delaware. My mind kept going back to happier, sunny days when I would drive to the beach to spend the weekend with you.  

We always found a way to avoid the crowds as you hated when “those tourist” invaded your piece of paradise.   I can still hear your voice complaining about the people and the traffic.   I’d let you vent and then remind you I was one of “those tourists”.

Those bittersweet memories became a trigger.   The more I remembered, the closer the grief crept in.   Like one of those completely unexpected rouge waves that hits out of the blue and drops you to your knees.  

The wave of grief so powerful I felt like I was choking.  Like my breath had been sucked out of my lungs as I was being pulled under by its strength.   The reality that we would never share another Memorial Day together, that I would never make that trip again, that I would never walk into your house to see your smiling, tan face was too much for my heart to handle.

I was shocked at how my body responded as those waves continued to wash over my soul.  They call it muscle memory and my muscles were in full gear of remembrance.  That familiar choking sensation returned.   That feeling of hopelessness.  Of dread.  The pain radiating from my broken heart.  I was helpless to stop the physical response to the wave of absolute sadness that enveloped my soul.  

I used to try to fight my way through these tough days.   I’d tell myself that I was being crazy.   That my grief should have lost some of its power over the last 6 years.  I try to convince myself that I should be able to handle these memories without going to pieces.   That what society says about grieving is true.   We should be able to wrap it up in a pretty package and place it on a shelf.   That time should heal broken mothers.  

The reality is that grief knows no time frame.   Those waves are churning always ready to hit without warning.   Grief makes no sense.   It hides in our souls forever present waiting to pounce on our unsuspecting hearts.  

That day, I allowed the dam to break.   I let those waves wash over me as I cried my heart out.   I cried for you and all you were missing in this life.   I cried for me knowing that memories are all I have left of us.   I cried and cried and cried until I had no more tears left to shed.   

I could feel the waves subsiding.   Heading back out to sea.  I felt a calm returning.  My breath becoming regular.  

I’m learning that some days I must anchor myself letting those waves wash over my heart.   I’ve learned I need to feel the pain of what will never be.   After years of struggling to suppress  my grief I’ve come to realize that some days I just need to cry…………

 

Walking On Thin Ice

January 2, 2021 /


Matt,   It’s 5:21 on January 2nd.   Six years ago you were still alive.   I remember our conversation.   It was Saturday evening and you were on your way home to the sober home where you were staying in Boca Raton.  I remember looking at the clock it was 6:23.   We chatted about your day and promised to catch up again later that night.

That next call never came.  Little did I know that our conversations would never take place again.   We ended our conversation with our usual I love you thinking our future would be filled with many more talks.

As I write this letter I can feel my throat tighten and tears forming in my eyes.   I can feel the shock and disbelief wrapping itself around my heart.  It’s called muscle memory as the body never forgets trauma.

Tomorrow marks the sixth anniversary of your death.    Some days it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve heard your voice.    Other days it feels like yesterday.

The New Year is always tough for me.   This year it’s full of uncertainty and grief.   Sunday is the 3rd.   Your anniversary.  The weather will be rainy and bitter.   Mimicking my heart.   Monday l have my second CT scan checking to see if my cancer treatment has been successful.  I will be holding my breath and praying until I hear what I will be facing.   More down time or more treatment.

So I now mourn your death and my health.   I sometimes wonder if the cancer was caused by years of second guessing decisions made that led to your death.   Years of grieving and guilt for what might have been.   Years of wondering about If Heaven truly exists and if you are healed living in Paradise.   Years of wondering if I will ever see you again.   Wondering what death is like and if we will be together when my time comes.

I feel like I’m walking on ice.   On a frozen pond trying to get to the other side.   Some areas are solid and stable.   As I continue my journey I find areas that are cracking beneath my feet.   I can feel the frozen water seeping through my shoes as I wonder if I will make it to the other side before I fall through.

My journey since your death has been one I could have never prepared myself for.   Parents are never prepared to say goodbye to their children.   Parents are never prepared to hear they have cancer.

So I continue to pray that God has us both in his healing hands.   I pray you have found your peace that eluded you here on earth.  I pray your body and mind are free of the demons that followed you as you struggled.  I pray for his peace and healing as I struggle with losing you and losing the woman I used to be.

 

 

 

The Question That Has No Answer

July 22, 2020 /

Matt,   I went to your memorial garden yesterday to water the flowers we planted.  The weather has been scorching hot and I’m trying to keep the beauty surrounding your stone alive in this heat.   It’s typical July in Delaware.  I remember you complaining about the crowds and traffic that would invade your happy place as the temperatures soured.  You hated sharing your paradise and always wished the summer season to finish giving you back your peaceful place.

My neighbor, Debbie has become my garden companion as my back surgery has made it impossible for me to plant or water your flowers.  My job is to keep the bird feeder full and she lugs the watering can around the garden giving those flowers a refreshing drink.

We pulled up and parked next to the garden.  Deb grabbed the watering can and I grabbed the bird food.   I headed toward the garden as she headed up the parking lot to where the hose is stored.

A piece of paper was lying on your stone held in place by 2 quarters.   My curiosity peaked as I wondered who visited and left this mysterious note.

As I began to read I could feel the tears forming in my eyes.  My body enveloped in chills even in the 90 degree heat.   The letter was written to God by another mother who knew my grief.

She was asking God the same question I did after your death.   Why? Why? Why? did God allow her son to die.   She poured out her heart onto this precious piece of paper.   As I continued to read I could no longer hold back my tears.   Debbie seeing my tears thought I was crying over you.   I handed her the note and watched her face as she read this grieving mothers words to God.   Both of us stood silent with tears running down our cheeks as we continued to read this broken mothers words.

She was begging God for her son back just as I did and continue to do.   She was begging for just another moment in time with her precious son.   Begging God to give him back to her just as I have begged.   To think this mother came to your garden and stood at the foot of Jesus’s cross pouring out her grief was so bittersweet for me.   I could picture her talking out loud begging for her pain to stop and her son to be alive just as I have done many, many times.

I will probably never meet this mother but I know her as I know myself.   A mother who’s heart holds the unbearable grief of losing her precious son as does mine.  Mothers, strangers bonded by a grief no mother should carry.   Both standing by your stone in the peacefulness of your garden asking the question that has no answer………

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