September 2, 2024
Finding connection with other people is extremely important to me. For over 30 years I have been the member of a 12-step support group for families of alcoholics, and I am sure that it is one of the primary reasons I have been able to continue to function and work since the death of my oldest son in July of 2023. Initially, it was the people I knew in the rooms and members of my faith community that kept me going. Family showed up in droves in the early days, as well. I have vague memories of my brother repairing my flat tire and mowing my lawn. There was food everywhere in my house and never a dirty dish in the sink. I had hugs from many people. At that point, I was so numb with shock, that I am still not sure about who came to the house or the memorial.
Certain things from the early days do stand out. I will never forget the folks who helped to clean out Alex’s apartment. Nor will I forget the over 300 people who came to Alex’ memorial. What is left is a sense of overlapping communities coming together and holding me and Alex’s immediate family up. Other parts of those early weeks are fuzzy, and that may be a blessing. I am also fortunate to have a small but mighty group of friends who organized the food for the reception, put together a slide show and arranged for a “meal train” to deliver food twice a week for 3 months. I am a librarian for my day job, and several people realized that books are one of my love languages and were able to provide books to process my loss and distract me with amusing stories. I highly recommend It’s OK Not to Be Ok by Megan Devine, Signs by Laura Lynne Jackson, and Grief Yoga by Paul Denniston.
Now, more than a full year after Alex’s death, I am starting to move into a new phase of grief. The amputation has healed, but I still have phantom pains. It feels like am learning to walk in the world once more without a leg or an arm that was essential to me before. At least I no longer wake up each morning and think that it was just a nightmare, and briefly hope that Alex is still alive. Last October the tattoos I got became the physical reminder that keeps me from slipping back into denial repeatedly. I will never be the same, but some parts of me from my past will move forward with me. Which parts are yet to be determined.
This new phase of grief is about discovering who I am all over again. Am I still a mother of two? Do I tell people that one of my children is living and the other died? Who is safe to tell that my son died of a Fentanyl overdose? I absolutely need more time in meditation, yoga, journaling and outside in nature than ever before. Quiet, alone time has become the way I find peace from the turmoil and a chance to sort out my altered identity. In addition to my weekly Al- anon meetings, I now seek connection with other people who have lost children and those who understand how it feels to have lost a loved one due to overdose or suicide. Most of the support groups I have found are online, but at least there are a few for parents who have lost a child. We are part of an exclusive club that none of us ever wanted to join. We don’t judge each other or tell each other our kids are “in a better place,” because we all feel our children would be better off in our arms, in our homes or at least available to visit for major holidays.
This weekend I was extremely fortunate to attend my first ever in person grief group. We met for 4 hours to share grief yoga, enjoy a lovely meal, do some arts and crafts, participate in Narcan training and a meeting where we got to talk about our deceased children openly. No one told us to get over it or was uncomfortable with our tears. I came away from the afternoon exhausted but elated to know Nick and I are not alone. My biggest take away from the workshop and this time is that community is essential to healing. I am grateful to have support and understanding from other grieving parents. It is my hope that people who read this post will seek out community in whatever form feels best. For me, finding community has made all the difference in my ability to face the challenges in my life.
Mindful Musings 