Last year at this time, I was so scared to leave 2019 behind. I had this ebbing pain that came with the loss of Blake – this fear that turning the page to a new year and a new decade would somehow separate us even more. What I’ve learned is that while time measures how long we’ve been physically distant from each other, my heart cannot read a clock or a calendar. I know there are hundreds of mothers joining the club of mothers who have lost a child to substance use disorder/overdose/poisoning every day, and we should all be alarmed. We should all rise up and demand better from our systems, our communities, and each other. What I would tell these mothers though, is that you will always love your child. You will think of them every single day, every waking hour. Look for them, they are with you. Look for them in the good times; and be aware of their encouraging presence during the challenges.
This past year has been a mixed bag for me personally. I entered 2020 knowing that I needed to take some time for myself. I had been showing up to do the work of my previously unbroken heart during the months since Blake’s passing, smiling pleasantly for the children, trying to be present for them, all while carrying this immense weight that I could not let them see or feel. This made me incredibly tired. I also felt guilty because I knew that they were not getting what they deserved. I saw a doctor who granted my request for a medical leave of absence for the month of February.
February – Blake’s birth month, and the first birthday that we would spend without his physical presence on Earth. While he spent his 22nd and his 28th birthdays in in-patient treatment, and his 27th in sober living in Los Angeles, this new separation was final. We were navigating a new normal. It just so happened that his actual birthday was Advocacy Day at the state legislature, and I was offered a platform to speak about my heartbreak, as a mother who lost her child to substance use disorder. The afternoon before the event, I sat in the passenger seat and wrote, as Thom drove us to Salem.
The next day, we got up early. I put the final touches on my poem that I would read on the steps of the state capitol, and we found our way there. It felt good to keep his memory alive in the presence of so many who understood, and to speak with legislators about what this disease is doing to families and communities and what is needed to make positive change. I made lifelong friends that day – other mothers who know and understand the pain, whether their children are with Blake or are still struggling to break the chains. By the end of the day, I was tired. Thom and I stopped at a favorite sushi place that we both frequented with Blake when one of us would take him to his monthly appointment with his Suboxone doctor in Portland. The sushi didn’t taste near as good that night.
That weekend, we celebrated Blake’s birthday with a couple of Blake’s friends and some new friends of ours, preparing some of his favorite foods. This is often a question from moms newly on this journey, “How do you get through their birthday?” What I’ve learned about myself, is that I must intentionally grant myself time to just be with him. After I’ve done that, I can emerge and give myself to the needs and attention of others. On this day especially, I need to love and care for him. I need to cook for him and share him with others.
The next week, I spent two days at La Pine High School, speaking with youth about the realities of substance use and substance use disorder, using my story, and Blake’s story, in an effort to normalize what so many are struggling with, whether it is them personally, a family member, or a friend. I can definitely see myself doing more of this work, perhaps while RVing throughout the United States.
Thom and I ended the month of February with a retreat to Ashland, where we lazily walked through the park, shopped downtown, ate some really good food, and even found and walked into Tunnel 13, the site of the country’s last train robbery. That was a fun hike, but it was admittedly also kind of creepy. We returned home, somewhat invigorated, and I returned to work on March 2nd.
I worked for two whole weeks. I can’t say that I was upset by the news that spring break was being extended by a week, and then a month, and then the rest of the school year. I was suddenly forced to sit my butt down and be still with my grief, and I felt grateful. I settled into a pattern of more rest, more exercise, more cooking and reading, and learning about and doing yoga. I took care of my mind and body and paid attention to my needs. I soaked up the sun, raked our yard, and painted my kitchen.
Blake’s one year angelversary, July 23rd, found us taking a trip to Eagle Point, where we spent the day with him at Lost Creek Lake. We saw him everywhere and could feel the magic of his presence in nature, his favorite place to be.
By August, I felt an ominous cloud hanging over me in regard to the impending return-to-school date. I really didn’t know what to do. What I wanted to do was sell the house, buy an RV, and hit the road. I still want to do that, but it’s not quite time – yet. I had been watching various job sites, and I was struggling with the pros and cons of leaving my 20 year career in education. What I knew was that the stress of the pandemic and the uncertainty that it brought to the daily lives of all I would be involved with would be too much for my mental health. That was the bottom line. I responded to a job posting for a paralegal after researching the firm. Almost two weeks later, I answered a call from an unfamiliar number and passed the initial screening for the paralegal position. The first interview was set and then the second. The job offer arrived in my inbox within the hour on Friday afternoon – two and a half days before I was scheduled to report back to school. Happy dance with tears!
I started my new job on August 31st, shortly after Thom’s dad’s wife passed away. Throughout September, Thom helped his dad settle his affairs in Boise. By the beginning of October, Thom moved his dad into a travel trailer on our property. There is challenge and reward in this transition. Overall, I am happy to be in a position to be able to have Thom help his elderly father. It is challenging to watch the effects of physical aging and to accept the reality of the continuation of the process, both the known and the unknown.
Also in October, Lucas, our youngest son, and his fiance, Kristen, (yes, he proposed in September, and she said YES!) took a long vacation to Montana, where her family lives. I had a suspicion that this vacation would turn into something more. Sitting together at the table, after eating Thanksgiving dinner, it was confirmed. Lucas and Kristen were planning to move to Paradise Valley, Montana at the beginning of 2021. The next day I put a deposit on a puppy.
Knowing that they were getting ready to move out of our home and out of the state, I poured every ounce of myself into the Christmas holiday. We hunted for the perfect tree with Lucas. I scoured the Internet, mostly Etsy, for heartfelt gifts. I shopped downtown stores for local items. I created our breakfast and dinner menu and grocery shopping lists. Right in the middle of December, I picked up my new love, Sarafina. On Christmas, we celebrated a perfect day, our family, as it is, the end of a chapter, and the beginning of a new adventure.
The day ended with a phone call that my PawPaw had passed from COVID, a month and a day shy of his 98th birthday. He was my maternal grandpa. He had been in a nursing home for a number of years, as he had debilitating arthritis, among other ailments. Having not had a close relationship with him, as my mother prefers to deny my existence, I was more happy than sad, that he was not in pain anymore and could now dance on the Otherside. In the days ahead though, I was reminded, once again, that my mother does not consider me to be part of the family that is indeed mine, and I felt the stabbing of her dagger in my heart. I cried that night and rose the next morning. Driving to work, the full moon still in the sky, Blake seemed to be deejaying the radio station. First Train and then G. Love and Special Sauce. I don’t know if Blake ever heard the song “Diggin’ Roots”, but it always makes me think of him when I hear it.
With everything that has happened, especially in the last quarter of 2020, I have neglected my physical self-care, which is tied to my overall well-being. I enter into 2021 with a bit more anxiety and knowledge that I have work to do. That is a constant though. I always have work to do. I am willing to do it. Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back. 2020 was a year of huge evolution, a year of experiencing love to and from the Otherside, a year of realizing that sorrow and joy can co-exist, a year of understanding that life is about more than meets the eye, and a year of courage. I am and will remain curious and resilient. I will take courage with me and develop it further, as I carry it into unknown places and spaces. I will take intentional steps to manifest the future that I see, which starts with a recommitment to my physical health, a Zoom meeting with Anna B. David on Tuesday afternoon about writing a book, an 8-week “Sacred Time – Space: Grief and Psychic Phenomena” course that begins in three weeks, and research into starting a non-profit..
Cheers to 2021!