The "Before"
We were very young parents. 19 and 20 when our first baby, Ryan, came along, 21 and 22 when the second one, Alex, came into our lives. In my mind I know we made mistakes and we struggled in many ways, financially, to grow up ourselves, to find your way in the world at that age is hard enough, but to bring 2 beautiful brown-eyed babies along with you, is super hard. I know we aren't the only ones. Looking back now, I know God gave them to me to save me and make me grow up. I needed it.
At 25 I had 1 more, a beautiful teal eyed, blond baby girl. We all were sooo in love. After she was born, I went back to school full time while I waited tables in the evening. Thank God for my husband who had to, in essence, become mom and dad...and might I say, he did it well. He spent hours and hours with our kids playing with them, bathing them, reading them bedtime stories, fed them dinner, clipped their nails, cleaned their ears...you name it.
Finally I graduated and life got a little easier on all of us. My boys were able to play lots of baseball and travel with their friends as they had so wanted to do. We had a great life. We took vacations together as a family, my parents took them on vacations. My brother in law and his wife took them places, Pro ballgames, all over the place. They did things many adults still haven't done. And they were good kids. They were loved. Really loved. We were a happy, close family.
In High School my boys were both popular and funny. We never had any real problems with either of them, just normal kid stuff. They both played some sports and loved it. Had lots of friends and seemed to thrive. We remained a very close family. After my oldest son graduated he went to college a few semesters at my parent's expense and insistence, but did not do well, as I feel he just wasn't ready. Then one day he said "I need to talk to you mom." Immediately my heart sank. We went on the back deck together and he told me "I am a drug addict and I need help." We both cried. I feel that this is a testimony of the kind of open and loving relationship we had with all of our children that he knew he could come to me and tell me. I immediately started trying to help him. Without success.
I didn't think Alex, our youngest son, was doing "hard" drugs. I believed he only smoked pot, which at the time I thought was no big deal. Eventually our oldest son went to rehab in St. Louis. I think he wanted to stay clean, but 1 month after he got home, Alex accidentally overdosed on pills and alcohol. He spent 3 days in CCU at St. John's in Joplin on the ventilator and 3 more days on the neurological floor. 6 days in the Hospital. Ryan, felt like it was his fault because he knew he was wasted, but didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Ryan immediately relapsed and was doing every opiate he could get his hands on, even smoking Dilaudid. Straws, foil. Straws, foil. Took me a while to figure that one out. I would kick him out...but let him right back in. Still hate buying Aluminum Foil...and that was 7 years ago. Today, he is alive and doing well. Thank God he was doing well when his brother died.
After his overdose, Alex swore to himself and to us that he was done. No more. "I have a second chance." Needless to say that did not last. Very long summer with him. Every time I couldn't immediately wake him I started freaking out. He continued to drink and I'm sure take pills and had several ER visits as well.
A couple of years went by and he worked and sort of just got lost. He lost 6 jobs in 1 year. He was using, but was also very good at "maintaining" as they say. Fired from every single one. It was "never his fault", according to him. He just was very very lost. I never dreamed after what we lived through with his brother that he would also become a serious drug abuser. He started working for a man that he knew, Al grew up with his son. He loved that job. I started noticing then that he would come home really messed up, stumbling around, slurred speech etc. My mom even noticed it. I would ask him and ask him if he was using drugs and he would always deny it. Then he stole our meds, Xanax, we only took it occasionally for anxiety. Not only did he steal it once...but twice. The second time we called the police. They gave him a ticket and went on. I continued to ask him over and over and over "Do you need help?" Some days he was fine. In fact most days when I saw him, he did seem fine.
The "After"
Then comes the after. The devastating, life changing after. Your worst nightmare. The unimaginable. March 22 2012. The day that changed everything. The "after."
How do I even tell this story? I remember that day. It is burned in my mind. He was working 11-2 and 5-close. He had lost his drivers license and I took him back and forth to work most days. My sister had a 17 month old and he was the light of my life. He was at my house that day. At around 10:30 am, I remember waiting for Al to come up the stairs and ask me for a ride to work. He never did. I got a strange feeling but his days off had changed and I thought maybe he was off that day. Still something was off, I could feel it. I continued to play with Aidan, my nephew and go on with my day. That afternoon I decided to color my hair. My daughter and I were at the table in the dining room looking at Facebook and Aidan was on my lap. Scott came in from work at 3:45 pm and the phone rang. I immediately looked up and was numb. I heard him say "What, are they sure it's him?" I put the baby down and started screaming at the top of my lungs "Alex is dead!!! Alex is dead!!!" I didn't even know it until later when my daughter told me I said it "I'm so pissed off!! I'm sooo pissed off! Alex is dead!" Somehow I knew. I called 911, Scott called 911. Eventually they told us that they had a body at Mason Woodard and asked us to come there. He had been dead over 12 hours before anyone called. I told my daughter to call my mom and we passed her on our street. I remember saying "Alex is dead." and my mom just started bawling. We got to the funeral home and the Sheriff was there. He showed my husband a picture of Alex on his phone and Scott told him that it was Alex. We went in and all I wanted to do was see him. They told me no. Just no. We went in and sat at this table and I just kept saying, I wanted to see him and they just said no. "We would have to clean him up and get him ready, you don't want to see him." Yes, Yes, I do. "No." We left.
Now, the after. We went home, soon our house was full. Full of crying people, full of sadness. Really, really full of it. I can just remember feeling like I should be entertaining them. That is me. And knowing that I could not. It wasn't even appropriate. It is just me. Those first few days were surreal as everyone will tell you. I was so determined to not let it kill me. Already in March thinking about Christmas, Easter etc. I remember for weeks waking up and saying out loud to myself "Alex is dead...Alex is dead." Walking to the toilet, sitting on the toilet, saying it over and over again out loud. Just wanting so badly to be able to accept it and learn to live with it. But you can't, you just can't. I am 4 yrs and almost 7 months out and it makes me cry just to write this.
I remember after, reaching out to friends that had lost their children and thinking "I've got this." Just weeks after he died. They all said "Oh, honey you are just getting started." WHAT!! ? "I've got this." Not even for a minute. This is the "after." You have never really "got this." It just doesn't happen. Your life changes and it never, ever, ever goes back to the same. I remember loving Spring. I love flowers and plants. My daughter and I were standing on the front porch and I said "Look, the grass grows, the trees bud, the flowers bloom but no Al." Life without him is so much different. I cry more days now than I don't. Sometimes it is unbearable. My sweet husband has days that he just can't, just almost barely lives. My children are different. Everything is different. It is something that you just cannot even explain. Everything changes.
The first year I was determined to just go on with life. I planned his funeral to a T because I wanted it to be just perfect for him. It was the best since that dreadful news, because I was numb. The second year almost killed me. After his 1 year anniversary came and went it became so real and painful I almost didn't survive. That is when you realize THEY ARE NOT COMING HOME. I went to work only because I had to. I paid only the bills necessary to live. I left my house only if I had to. I stayed in bed more than I should have. I barely barely made it. After that a little light comes back, you start to laugh without feeling guilty. I love to laugh. If you are lucky you have friends that let you know you are loved and needed, in whatever capacity you are at the moment. Time goes by and you learn to live the "new normal." But I will tell you now ...there will ALWAYS, ALWAYS be a "before" and now...an "after."
Thank you to my son Ryan, for allowing me to tell our story.
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