it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The club

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The club: My husband is in the bedroom packing his bags.  My niece and nephew are doing the same.  My sister-in-law is most likely sitting, staring in...

The club

My husband is in the bedroom packing his bags.  My niece and nephew are doing the same.  My sister-in-law is most likely sitting, staring into space as she ponders her new life.  Her new life without her only child.

My nephew died on Friday.  He was in his twenties. 

Family members, his girlfriend and his friends are mourning and grieving.

The substance abuse culprits  are celebrating.  They stole another young person's life.

I have been so clouded the past few days.  I have also been swallowing survivor guilt.  I truly believed that I would be the one making the phone calls and the arrangements, not the one receiving them.

My sister-in-law and her husband now belong to the club, "the club of parents who have buried a child."

I saw former first lady Barbara Bush on a talk show years ago.  Her deceased daughter was mentioned.  She said that when this happens to you, regardless of the time that has past, it still seems like yesterday and your heart and your mind can go there in seconds.  And when you meet total strangers, from places far away, and you discover that they too have lost a child, you are immediately bonded.  She said it is a special club and only it's members understand what it is like to belong.

I will always remember her speaking about this.  And this is one club that nobody ever wants to join, ever.

Walker and I took the grandmother to the airport.  If I live to be 100, I will never forget her pain and anguish. EVER.  She just kept saying, "it wasn't supposed to be like this."

And it wasn't. 

I have peace in my heart.  I told the mother yesterday that I know she will make a difference.  I know that she will end up on Capitol Hill.  I know she will sit on a couch beside Matt Lauer and beg people to wake up and stop the madness.  I know that she will be a voice and save just one mother and that mother's child. K will stop the anguish and despair that she now has forever in her heart.  K. has that strength.  Her new life and her new calling will make a difference.  And look out Washington Dc, you are not ready for this one.

And the death of her son will save the lives's of others, I know it.  And that is a great gift.  To save others and make a difference.

Her heart is broken.  It was her only child.  Her love was not enough to conquer  the substance abuse demons.

All of this is just so sad.  And so unnecessary.  We have states fighting to legalize marijuana, a gateway drug.  I just wish the people that have died because they too started with marijuana got as much attention as the drug gets.  The benefits of being high will never compare to the grief that substance abuse have caused.

I am not the mother who just was inducted into the "club". But I sit here on  my porch with a whole in my heart and a numbness in my body that is hard to describe.  When I decided the name of my blog, it just seemed to sum up my life at the time.  Never, did I ever think that a grieving grandmother would look at me with crocodile tears in her eyes and say, "it is wasn't supposed to be like this."  Ever.

Hug your kids and pray for heart's at peace and pray for those in the "club".

The Essay

As a parent, there are some moments when you just look at your child and ask, "when, or where has the time gone?"

Such was the case tonight at DARE graduation.  My little guy walked into the gym with his partner, the girl I want him to marry, and all of them looked so grown up.


The girls were tall and the boys not so goofy and they all seemed so grown up.  Where had the time gone?

Walker seemed especially grown up to me.  Calm and composed.  All of the kids seemed calm and composed. 

They called his name and he read his essay.

The last part of the essay went like this, " Somebody I know taught me how to make safe, responsible choices.  Drugs and alcohol ruin people's lives, not only theirs, but the people around them too.  They ruined mine.  I would walk into his room with his breakfast and the bed wasn't made, the window was open and he was gone.  When I had a big game or a wrestling match and he was my coach and of course he wasn't there.  I would get in the car with him and of course he would light up a cigarrette.  Every night in my house people were yelling and I would walk into my room and there were holes in the wall.  He also got kicked from college and it took him a year to get back in.  He had a crushed life.  Now it is good but that doesn't mean not to always make safe responsible choices."

And there it was.  Walker's assessment.

I have read it over and over and over tonight.

"They ruined mine."  Those three words that mean heartbreak and confusion and disappointment and hurt, all because you loved someone.  And that someone loved pot and beer and xanax more than you or your love.

As Walker spoke, with composure, he seemed wiser and older.  And he was.  He and his sister have seen, heard, touched and witnessed some horrible things.  And drugs were always the reason.

This blog and the guest speaker tonight are about learning from another's choices.  Walker did tell us that he was "afraid he used the button to write his essay."

The "button" and his choices are what it has always been about.  Substance abuse does not care about where you live, what you do for a living or how much money you make.  Substance abuse cannot see, it can only feel.  If we could help another family, it was worth the pain. 

And Walker's words, "When I had a big game or a wrestling match and he was my coach, of course he wasn't there,"  I wish I could read that to every person who is suffering.  For every time my son crawled out the window to be with his pot and his friends, they NEVER loved or cared about him, the way this 10 year old does.

A ten year old who knew his brother "had a crushed life" and he never saw any of those friends come by to help his brother rebuild it,  go to visit the button in summer camp, write him or even ask about him.   When your life is "crushed" the only people that are around are the ones that you hurt the most, not the party people.  Only the ones you hurt the most.

As a mom, who is 52 and doesn't get the hell we have been through, I have wondered ever day what and how my two little ones feel.  Tonight, while one read and the other cried, I got a glimpse.

I only wish that all the other kids who have partied like rock stars with one of my son's, could have listened to the other side of a substance abuse from the other. 

Tonight, when I put my "grown up" ten year old to bed, he asked, "can you lay with me?"

I have never jumped into bed that fast with a male before in my life.       

And he cuddled and we talked.  And I told him how proud I was of him.  Not just because of DARE but for the man he was turning into. 

As I walked out of the room, he said, "thanks for laying with me."  Sigh.  I will always remember tonight.

If you know anybody who has a sibling that is going through this, please share this blog.  They are not alone.  And it isn't easy to tell others, when you are young, how or why you have the feelings you do.  It is okay to have them.  It is okay to learn from them.  And still love them, despite poor choices, and still be mad, because of poor choices. 

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: I DARE you to have courage

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: I DARE you to have courage: Walker adores his friend Miss M.  Miss M is one of the lady's  that is fighting like a girl. Miss M. is a jeans, sweatshirt and tennis...

I DARE you to have courage

Walker adores his friend Miss M.  Miss M is one of the lady's  that is fighting like a girl.

Miss M. is a jeans, sweatshirt and tennis shoes kind of gal.  Naturally pretty.  No need for glitz, the beauty and her bright eyes are there.  Walker adores Miss M.  Adores.

Two weeks ago, straight off the radiation trail, she showed up at the baseball field with a "fancy scarf on her head" to hide her bald head.  While she looked adorable, she didn't look like herself.  But, she looked adorable.  Adorable.

During this time, Walker was attending DARE in fifth grade.  DARE is short for Drug, Alcohol and Resistance Education.  Obviously, it was pretty important in our house.

And he didn't mention it. 

There is an essay that the student writes at the conclusion of the eleven weeks.  This essay is a summary of what the child has learned  from the DARE class and there is room for "personal reference."

Walker would not reveal anything about DARE or the DARE essay.  He keeps his feelings close to his heart.  The "button" is his boy.  His "big bro" and "his best friend."

There is a winner for the DARE essay in each classroom.  While he said he didn't want to win, you knew he did. 

And still, we got nothing. 

Finally, he came home on a Thursday and told us that he "thought" he might have won. 

And of course, we didn't care about the victory.  What I told him was, "I am just proud of you for having the courage to stand up in front of your classmates and tell about your thoughts and feelings and not be uncomfortable.  Courage, that takes courage and we are proud of you for having the courage."

He says, "If Miss M. can show up at the ball field with that silky thing on her head in front of everybody, I can have the courage to read my essay."

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.  I did both.

Tonight is the DARE graduation.  He reads his essay. 

And his prize for telling about his brother's poor choices is a trip to Summer Camp.

You have got to laugh.  Loudly.

And, you have to know that courage,  shows up in the most unlikely places, silky scarves, policeman, firefighters and little guys who love their brothers.

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Acceptance

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Acceptance: One of the definitions of the word acceptance is "a belief in something, an agreement." I have never really thought about the wo...

Acceptance

One of the definitions of the word acceptance is "a belief in something, an agreement."

I have never really thought about the word much, the meaning.  None of it.   But I have believed in things, many things.

And I have believed in things even when they were telling me not to.

Such is the case of my son, my family and my son's future.

I just kept believing.  Maybe it was because I didn't know what else to do.  But I still would not accept that this was "his" life or our lives.  No way.  I could just not accept that this was his life.  And I will not.  EVER.  And, I also believed in the button.  And I beleived in his seeds of greatness.

In December, I surfed the web.  No directions, just googling and browsing.  Passing time.

I found a school.  A small school far away.  A small school, far away with a wrestling program.

I clicked on it.  I entered some info and moved on.

Something told me to do it.  That little voice in my gut that guides me so often.  That little voice said "click it".  My little voice said, "now let it be."

Two days later my phone rang.  It was the wrestling coach from the little school far away.  He had taught in our state and knew the button.  He couldn't believe that the button's name was on the sheet.  "Can I talk to him.?"

Well,  you cannot hide a missing person.  And so the truth began to flow. 

You can imagine my shock when he told me that he too had been a "button."

Truly, as I stood outside in the December night, speaking to this coach, looking at the Christmas lights, this call was a Christmas miracle.  But, it was just a phone call.  And the process began.

The "button" has been accepted to a college.  Wow. 

And there is a ton of WOW in that word. 

Yes, he is still in summer camp.  And yes, there is so much that needs to happen in a short amount of time.  And yes, there is hope for a future.  And none of this would have been possible if the button himself had accepted that this was his life.  He too, despite his actions, could not accept that is whereh is life had ended.

He told us several times, "I just want to make your proud and I want to do this, not because it is an option to summer camp but because I WANT to do this.  I cannot accept and will not accept that this will be our path."

Yesterday, I said, "your story is not written."

He said, "let's hope the second half goes better than the first and that we are starting a new chapter."

And yes, there is a belief in something positive.  And, there is still reserved belief in my son. He can do this if he accepts the oppurtunity.  And there is a new acceptance in my healing heart. 

And yes, I am fully aware that taking him to a state far away and letting him fend for himself may very well be a crazy idea.  So was Silly Puddy. 

I saw CMB today.  She is still straight .She is clean, like soap and water, wearing a bra and fixed her hair clean.  She was dressed up.  I asked her, she weighs 68 pounds.  She gained five in the last month.We road the elevator together and she was so happy.   She has a belief in something, her sobriety.  She has acceptance that if she quits drinking, her life will turn around.

The "button'  has acceptance.  And so do I.  So does my husband. 

Accept a belief in something good.