Survival and miracles
Good Morning sweet blogland. I felt strong enough, and compelled and driven to write and share my heart again, here. Not an easy feat, being vulnerable and raw. Penning your innermost secrets, pain, and grief. I continue to do it, knowing it is a very important part of my journey. I continue to write because, that is what makes sense to me. I continue to write, so I look into a future, my future, one I don’t know anything about. You see, when my son died of an overdose last Christmas Eve, my world stopped. I didn’t know if I could ever take a deep breath again. Yet, I was able to sleep soundly. I didn’t know if I would ever feel joy or peace again. I found prayer and peace there. I found other mommies who lost their child too and we hold each other and support each other. I practiced meditation and self care. I reached out and volunteered and found joy in the simple act of giving. I filled a 500 page journal with my deepest grief, anger, fear, sadness, hope. I focused on just today. I reminded myself often, be gentle on yourself, your heart, your broken, wounded heart. I prayed for healing and relief. I cried more and let the tears fall. I quickly realized… as much as this hurts and no matter how scared and afraid I am, I must allow my grief to come. Some say, tears are cleansing. I get that. I don’t think crying is bad. I am surrounded by people who do. I am dealing better with that now. We all grieve our own way. In our own time. I am swallowing some of that theory now. When my Michael first died. I felt like I had 100 pound backpack on. 24/7. My own cross, the weight of his young passing. The overdose from Heroin. I carried it everywhere. The greatest fear is acceptance and the harsh reality of death. They will not return. He is not in rehab or detox or jail or living in a sober home. He died from drugs. There is no bargaining with God anymore. Pleading, threatening, begging, pretending, judging. Death is something we all will face. I never in a million years thought I would face a death of my child. Ever. Afterall, I am his Mama. I am bred to save and protect my children. I suppose, I will struggle the rest of my days with that. Powerlessness. Addiction. A hard pill to swallow, everyday. The demon, addiction, wins. I can’t put into words how devastating that is. I somehow thought, with all the love and rehabilitation, he would “get” it. WE would conquer and win. I was wrong.
So, I am beginning to educate myself. I crusade and involve myself with the staggering, startling and scary reality, The Heroin epidemic. It isn’t only “here” in NY. Sadly, there isn’t a state, a city, that hasn’t been poisoned and possessed with Opiod addiction. My son, quickly became a statistic. He tried 100 times to run from addiction, to chase it away, only to relapse and live in the pain. Some days, I try and imagine his inner pain, the physical need, his desperate attempt to hide it all from us. Today, I am able to remember he did his best. Over and over he completed detox’s and 28 day stays and sober homes and inpatient/outpatient, he tried his best. I think perhaps, I need to work on some forgiveness. I need to study the disease of addiction to fully understand his battle. You see, I have learned this much; it was NOT my battle, although, I felt responsible and determined to beat it, to cure him, to save him. Love, sadly, could not alone save him. I am thankful for the Love, as I believe, our bond is still intact, eternally.
I read his text messages a couple of times. He must have texted I Love You 100 times over a few months. & So did I. As painful as it seems, our Love remained even in his darkest moments. That brings me some comfort. I also learned, that Love remains and strengthens, every single minute, even after he died. Those ties are not broken, ever.
A few days ago, I asked him to stay close to me. His passing on Christmas Eve is difficult for all of us. I did not want to focus on the day he died. I will not judge and base his entire life on the day he overdosed.So, I quietly prayed to Michael. I whispered for him to walk with me through the holiday. I opened my blinds and saw a big Blue Jay sitting above the angel outside. I smiled for a moment. The blue jay flew to the bird bath and splashed for a minute. Hmmm, I thought, maybe that is a sign.
The next day, I opened the blinds and the blue jay was there, in the very same spot again. I’d like to think it was a sign. A deep calm had been with me for days. I again, was grateful for not falling apart.
The next day, his beautiful daughter came over to open gifts. Her big eyes and light hair and soft giggles warming my heart. The miracle, the gift, after all the pain and agony of going to court has ended. The love that radiates within is overwhelming, peaceful, calming and full of joy and beauty for her. Our Anna Lisa…She is precious and soft and innocent. I sat and reflected over and over. Do our loved ones sit above and are able to be with us? Do they all experience this joy and love with us? Did he somehow orchestrate the reunion of his precious daughter with us? Did he soften the mother’s heart enough to let us in? I do not know the answer. I may never know. I do know, someone, somewhere has given us back HOPE and Joy….she may only be a toddler, soon to be 3, but she has a beautiful soul, and she resembles her daddy in so many ways. I feel blessed. Something inside of me feels strongly that he was able to give her back to us. I believe his love transcended us all and we are extremely grateful to love her again.
So, call it a Christmas Miracle…or special gift. She is now a part of us.
Yesterday, we took his ashes to our families cemetery plot. I engraved his name on the stone and placed some of his ashes there with my parents and brother. I whispered to him yesterday. Someone told me you are with Nanny. If that be true my son, then I can rest peacefully, knowing you are by her side in heaven.
Till I see you and hold you again… Merry Christmas Mikey <3