His death is still so surreal...

[Texasnative]

I started this post as a reply to Dave’s post, “I loved my daughter to death.” But it became so long that I felt like I was hijacking his post and making it about me.

Dave, I have done my fair share of enabling with my 25 year old AS. He passed away 4 weeks ago today. I have also done my share of letting go. When that would happen, he would enter treatment because he had no where else to go. Not a great reason to go, but who knows what could happen? Every time I would get my hopes up and think, "maybe this is the time." He entered treatment on his own 8 weeks ago, and seemed happy and positive and ready. He had arranged for a half-way house, IOP, a sponsor. He seemed motivated. Four weeks ago when 3 police officers walked up to my home with a chaplain, I knew the moment I saw them that he had finally his battle with addiction. A pleasant evening on the patio ended as a nightmare from which I have yet to wake up.

I am still in shock. Still expect to see him at my door, or get a phone message. I have messages from his time in treatment...Telling me how much he loves me, how different it will be, making plans for the future. For the first time in a while I looked forward to getting his calls. We spoke every day the four weeks he was in rehab. Five days out of rehab he overdosed.

Reading the autopsy report yesterday was mind numbing…to hear your child described in such clinical terms. He was my child! He overdosed on a combination of hydrocodone and xanax, both were at lethal levels. He never even had hydrocodone as a DOC. It was always the Xanax, the Suboxone, clonipin, dorabinol, a bout with heroin. The last two years had been mostly prescriptions which he could rationalize somehow. He filled 5 active prescriptions when he got out. Hydrocodone was not one of them. The scrips were not from the rehab but from previous doctors. I don't know how he paid. I had given him $10 when I dropped him off at the start of his treatment. He had a phone card so he could call. That was it. He was staying with a woman about 10 years older that he had in rehab. Just for a few days prior to going to the halfway house, “waiting on a spot.” Not sure if that was true. She was the one who found him dead on the couch downstairs. I want to get his possessions back, the bible and cross he asked me to send him in particular, “to remind him to pray everyday he said.” She won’t answer my texts or my calls.

To add insult to injury, someone filled one of his prescriptions last week. He's been dead 4 weeks! He was a loving child, full of energy and life, a gifted athlete who just got in so deep and couldn't seem to get out. I believe in my heart that he really wanted to change. He has never been abusive but he has run the gamut of being arrested, being homeless at times, manipulating, stealing, you name it. Sometimes I replay those voice mails from rehab and it really feels like he is still here. I know that is probably not good but sometimes I just need to hear his voice.

I have been grieving the loss of my "real son" for 8 years. At least I thought I had. But the actual loss is something different entirely. I can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that I will never see him again. Wonder what I could have done, what I could have said in some of those last conversations we had, looking for clues in those voice mails that things were not really as good as they seemed.

Dave your posts have given me strength and courage. I am afraid of what the future holds. Dealing with the holidays, mother's day is right around the corner, my birthday after that. Sometimes it is just too overwhelming to think about. I came back to work a week after his death. I could lay in bed all day some days, but I force myself to get up and go to work. Do people think I am not heart broken because I came back so soon? Do they look at me and talk about my loss? Do they think it is any less painful because it was addiction, which some do not believe is a disease? I am glad he is not suffering any more but why couldn't he have been one of the success stories? Sorry for the rambling. My sadness permeates every part of my being right now.

[mommalu]

Oh, my dear one, my heart goes out to you.

Take whatever words that bring any form of peace from the war of "why".

All I want to do is hold you in my arms and hug you tight!

I have no answers to your questions. I just know that you are one awesome mom.

My love and comfort and prayers continue.

Lu

[jeanette]

Thank you for sharing that with me.

There are no words I can offer,
but I do care
and offer cyber (((HUGS)))
and I will listen

your son sounds like a beautiful man
may you have happy memories

[kathyf]

Sad to read your post. I, too, remember reading the autopsy report on my daughter. Tough stuff. There is nothing, just nothing, anyone can say that will lessen the pain.

As I have said before, I believe he wanted to change, too. I don't believe that addicts like a lifestyle of pain, sickness, heartache, hurting those they love and who love them, and all the other problems that come with it. It's the compelling pull of the drugs.

I think of you all the time and send prayers and hugs your way every day.

Love,
Kathy

[Forgive1]

I am in full blown tears right now. I have followed your posts and just haven't been able to write before. I am so deeply sorry for your loss.

I think I connect with your story so much because I am so afraid this will happen to my AS. He is the same age as your son was. I know I need to live for today and that worrying is useless. My AS is in his second week of rehab/recovery right now and I am working on myself, reading literature, I have gone to 2 ftf meetings, talked to a psychologist that specializes in addiction. I pray that my AS will be one of the success stories.

I am truly sorry that your son died in his struggle.

I pray for peace and serenity for you.

[dtosh]

But the actual loss is something different entirely

I, too, thought I was prepared for my daughter's death, but I found out it is impossible to prepare for. The actual loss is, indeed, "something else" - and there are no words capable of describing it. There is only one way to face the future after something like this and that is: one day at a time. I know that sounds so trite when overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, but it is the only way. Looking ahead can just cause more pain. I've found that anticipating holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries is worse than actually experiencing those days - and anticipating them sooner only causes longer periods of pain and sadness. The grief, pain, and sadness comes in waves, so I never know how I'll feel tomorrow or what will set it off. If I anticipate or fear facing tomorrow, I can almost guarantee it will be a bad day. Therefore, I have to force myself to just live one day at a time and deal with my "new normal".

The numbness wears off after a few months and then the reality hits full force. That is as frightening as it is painful because of expectations of things getting better. They do get better slowly, but life can never be the same. Ever. Accepting that and living one day at a time is the only thing one can do.

[Melissa]

Words cannot express the sadness and pain I feel on your behalf.

I pray your HP will hold you tenderly in His arms and give you a peace that passes all understanding.

Please keep coming back. Please know I care from the depths of my being.

(((hugs)))

[river rock]

oh I ache for you, I truly do. You know in your heart
you did all you thought was right for him. Im sure you
never did anything to purposely hurt him. Sweet lady
one day or one minute, whatever it takes. Dont worry
about what anyone thinks, everyone grieves in different
ways, and takes their own time, its not like it will ever
really be over , he was your son. Take care of you, and I pray
time will be your friend.
With love and deepest sympathy
River rock

[Believer]

While I know there is nothing I can do to remove your pain or make it better for you. I just would like you to know that you and yours are in my most heartfelt prayers. I can only offer prayers and let you know that you are not alone. We are here and praying and hoping that you are receiving support , love and whatever it may be that can bring any small comfort in this most difficult time for you. I know that just for today by the Grace of God go I. You are unfortunately living so many of our worst fear. I hope you continue everyday to just do the best you can and that time will help ease your pain I hope you will reach out to others that know and have lived with the same and find some comfort and understanding there.


prayers
Marie

[Frostygirl]

I'm so sorry for your loss.. I hate this disease and what it steals from us. I will pray big prayers for you. One day at a time... accept the love and compassion given to you.
Sincerely,
Frostygirl

[What_A_Day]

I deeply appreciate you all for the time you chose to take to reveal your love and pain, to others that need to know they too are not alone in this illuminating dark time that we call grieving... I think to call it, eating our hearts out...

[Wifey]

TN...
Thinking of you with prayer today. You will always be his mother and this day must be so hard for you. You and your son are remembered. Much love and wishes for comfort sent to you and yours.

[Mgio66]

I started this post as a reply to Dave’s post, “I loved my daughter to death.” But it became so long that I felt like I was hijacking his post and making it about me.

Dave your posts have given me strength and courage. I am afraid of what the future holds. Dealing with the holidays, mother's day is right around the corner, my birthday after that. Sometimes it is just too overwhelming to think about. I came back to work a week after his death. I could lay in bed all day some days, but I force myself to get up and go to work. Do people think I am not heart broken because I came back so soon? Do they look at me and talk about my loss? Do they think it is any less painful because it was addiction, which some do not believe is a disease? I am glad he is not suffering any more but why couldn't he have been one of the success stories? Sorry for the rambling. My sadness permeates every part of my being right now.

Hi, It has been almost two years since I found my son laying in his bed cold. He was clean for 40 days, we had him back it felt so good. We thought it would be a success story also but it wasn't to be. I warned him that day, I told him I was worried he might kill himself. I begged him not to go and do it that afternoon. Not a day goes by that I do not think about him or what I could have done that night or weeks prior or even when he was a child. I still cannot believe he is gone or that I had gone through such an ordeal of finding him and telling my wife, the reactions on eveyones face that horrible day still haunt me. The grieving only ends when I do not think about him. Forget about what people think. Grieving is a process which is unique to everyone, there is no right or wrong. We have my sons ashes in a box next to our bed, his room hasn't been touched, his contact still on my cell phone. I have realized I will never get over the loss of my son. I could have easily given up but my younger son gave me the strenght to continue. I hope you also find the strength whereever it may be. My heart goes out to you.

Michael

[dtosh]

I have realized I will never get over the loss of my son

Yes, Mike, this is a very hard and painful realization and it is so hard to accept, but it is reality. Getting over it is not possible, but learning to live with it is - but it is hard. I am going to re-post, here, something I posted on my daughter's memorial page for the second anniversary of her passing that I believe will strike a chord with all who have lost someone to this damned disease.

It is not the sadness over Jennifer's death that is so hard to take, even though it can be very tough to cope with. It is the sadness of her life enslaved to the beast of addiction that hurts the most. I had to sit and watch my Baby Doll suffer for so many years, never fully experiencing the pleasures that life has to offer for a young adult. I watched the spark in her eyes come and go as she fought to keep a foot in a world others knew, smiling and laughing and enjoying as much as she could before the beast forced her to do its bidding. That spark in her eyes was my spark of life, too. I loved it as I loved her and her laughter. Her suffering was my suffering and her pain was my pain. She taught me what life could be, both the good and the bad, and I learned more from her than she ever did from me. Knowing that she loved me is a blessing. Loving her was a privilege. She made an impact on everyone she met, one way or another. It just seemed that life was too big for her to handle - or she was too big for life to handle. The result is that I miss her terribly and the sadness of her suffering often consumes me, but I am forever grateful for having had her in my life.

I wish you peace, Mike. I know it can be hard to find.