Gratitude in Grief?

January 17, 2024

Today marks six months since my eldest child Joseph Alexander Kossan passed away. His death certificate will forever say the wrong date, but I know beyond any doubt that Alex’s texts, calls, and heart stopped on July 17, 2023. My own heart is still shattered in a million pieces and often I still struggle to breathe when I remember that how he died of an unintentional overdose. I would give anything for one more message, one more chance to hug my son, one more chance to tell Alex I love him and not to give up.

But, this morning I know logically that none of those things are possible. As I try to embrace my grief and soldier on through the myriad emotions that assault me as I go about the business of living my life, I am trying to recall the tools I know have helped me in past difficult times. For months I have been caught up in anger, sadness, and distress. I haven’t been able to understand why Alex was here at all if his life was to end so tragically and senselessly. Where is the redemption for Alex? What is the message to all of us who loved him and tried to help him find lasting recovery?

Today, upon awakening, my mind was flooded with images of Alex as a happy baby, an adorable toddler and an angsty, funny teen. For the first time in ages, I felt gratitude that Alex was my child. He was my first, so I learned about pregnancy, raising an infant and toddler from him. There was lots of trial and error as we learned about nursing together, but I wouldn’t trade anything for those moments when he snuggled up to my breast and fell asleep in my arms with a full belly. God, I loved that toothless baby grin he flashed at me! Nothing was more wonderful than the way he lit up when I came to pick him up from daycare or I swaddled him in his blue blankie.

There were happy years in Alex’s childhood. We did normal things like playdates, trips to playgrounds and parks, YMCA soccer, cub scouts and family vacations. Alex was always eager to try new things and was fearless about heights – sometimes terrifying me. As he grew up Alex loved camping and hiking, so I enrolled him in summer camp and boy scouts where he could participate in outdoor adventures year-round. He had wonderful friends and enjoyed goofing around then and with his little brother. There was a lot of laughter and silliness with super soakers, video games and antics in our house.

Even though depression and anxiety joined Alex’s life in his middle school years, I am glad that I was able to help him find solutions that worked for awhile and that I had great medical insurance so his doctors and I could get him help. It wasn’t all bad. There were sleepovers and Super Smash Bros. tournaments in our den on every snow day and on most weekends. I know the lyrics to almost every David Bowie, Beatles and Green Day song thanks to Alex’s obsessions. I have fond memories of dying his hair black so he would look more like Billy Joe Armstrong.

There were jubilant graduations, too. I have the cutest preschool graduation pictures of Alex as well as great ones from high school and his ceremonies at the Healing Place and RVA Builds. I am grateful that I was able be the parent who could be proud and present at celebrations for the traditional milestones and for ones less socially acceptable.

Oddly, I am now grateful for COVID-19 and the bizarre couple of years with shutdown and partial re-entry into the world. Alex moved home for 2 years during the pandemic as a clean and sober man. He brought with him a deep understanding of recovery that pushed me to dive in deeper to my own program and he while he lived here, Alex repaid every dime his stepfather and I paid for his legal fees, treatment, and housing in his active addiction years. Who would have ever thought that those strange, masked years might have been some of my fondest with my intact family? I am so happy I have memories of Alex making gingerbread houses with his girlfriend in our kitchen and chowing down on a whole chicken or his specialty quesadillas after building scaffolds for 8 hours.

I may never understand what triggered Alex’s relapse after 5 years of sobriety. I may never get why the treatment programs, 12-step friends who intervened and girl friend who tried so hard to help him were not enough. All our love and resources were not able to keep him here. Today, I am grateful that I knew Alex. At least I have that.