‘I Have to Be His Voice’ and Celebration of Blake

Before I went to bed on Saturday night/early Sunday morning, I saw the article that The Bulletin published about the Central Oregon Walk for Recovery. I was front and center, standing on the stage behind the podium where I spoke to the crowd, the photographer having captured me wiping a pain-filled tear from my eye. When I woke up Sunday morning, I received a text showing the article on the front page. I was a bit stunned but so filled with honor to have been given first, the platform to be heard and seen as a mother who lost her son to addiction, and second, to have been able to bring awareness to the stigma that so many individuals and families hide from in an effort to protect themselves.

I woke up Saturday morning feeling a bit frantic. I forgot to buy mozzarella cheese for the clam dip, the balloons were still not marking the way to the site for Blake’s Celebration, I didn’t have coffee for my morning shake – I was seeing everything that had not been done and feeling so much anxiety. Thom kept reassuring me and telling me everything would be fine. I eventually left the house with the box of t-shirts to pass out to our friends and family who would walk with us.

I also knew that I was going to speak at the event. I was interviewed on the phone by a reporter from The Bulletin on Friday morning. I wasn’t sure of the format of the event, what I needed to say, or how I was even going to do this. I’m not a big planner when I speak, so that wasn’t the part that was causing so much agony. My insides were quaking, and my mouth was dry.

Arriving at the event, I carried the box of shirts to the staging area. I was met by some friends who had already arrived, and they immediately took over organization of the shirts, while I spoke with the event organizer and other key event people, and a reporter. I was convinced I would need a chair on the stage so that I wouldn’t fall. This feeling that I had is a feeling that I’ve sporadically experienced since Blake’s passing, but not to this extreme. It is a feeling of being out of balance, not like vertigo or dizziness, but like the Universe has been tipped suddenly and I need to hold on to something to maintain my footing.

It was then time to stand on the stage. At the very last moment before climbing the steps, I decided to read my Mo[n][m]ster Madness poem. My dear friend and soul sister asked, “Are you going to be able to read it?” I shrugged, knowing I probably wouldn’t, but I was going to try to separate myself from my grief and give it a go.

With the podium to lean on, I introduced myself and immediately had to take a few seconds to try to compose myself. I knew this was going to be hard, and it was. I also knew that this was just the first time I would tell this story, and that it would eventually get easier. But I had to get through it on that day, especially for him. He was brave, each time he fell and got back up, he was so brave. I would be brave too.

So with tears in my eyes and a wavering voice, I plowed through. I told a little about his story, read my poem, and talked for a minute about the stigma surrounding the disease of addiction. One of my final statements on the stage was that Blake would expect nothing less from me. I know this to be true. He knew that his ‘mama don’t play.’ He saw me fight for him and his brother and so many other young people. When I exited the stage, I felt a wave of relief.

Here is a video of my talk:

I received so many hugs, condolences, and words of appreciation from members of the recovery community. I met a mom whose son, 13 months in recovery from heroin, spoke after me. She said she had been looking at the picture of Blake on our shirts, and thought how he reminded her of her own son.

We all joined and completed the walk, and met back at the staging area for a picture before dispersing for final Celebration preparation.

Back at the house, I finished making the clam dip, changed my clothes, and donned Blake’s ‘Naked Winery’ hat. It was 75 degrees and sunny, and I was planning to catch some rays while celebrating my beautiful boy. I threw on a swimsuit that reminds me of something a James Bond girl would wear (because I believe in the ability of clothing to shift attitude, and I wanted to feel a little bit determined) and put the t-shirt back on over it. I was late, but I was feeling my go-with-the-flow attitude return.

The Celebration of Blake’s Life was perfect. So many people showed up to remember him and support us. It was casual, with hamburgers and hot dogs served from the grill, and many other dishes provided by family and friends. The stories told were funny and filled with love and grief. The weather did not hold up though, and turned from sunny and warm, to chilly and downright blustery. We chalked it up to Blake showing us his presence. There was a white egret that flew up and down the reservoir while we were there. I tried to capture it in a photo, but it eluded me.

Here is a video that Google Photos so kindly put together for me with some of the pics and videos I took:

There were many funny stories, stories of his stubbornness, stories of his goofiness and good nature. One story filled my eyes with tears. A friend that he had during elementary school drove over five hours to be with us on this afternoon. She had written to me on an earlier date telling me that she didn’t have many people that she kept in contact with during that time in her life, because most people bullied her. Not Blake. He was always kind to her. During the Celebration, she told us all how her single mom didn’t qualify for free lunch, and there were days that she came to school with no lunch and no lunch money. On those days, Blake would either share his lunch or give her his lunch. Oh, my heart!!! She also told me that Blake is the one that sparked her artistic creativity. Another person told how he talked with a homeless man with a guitar in the park for a couple of hours one afternoon. He was selfless and loving, my beautiful boy.

After the stories, we packed up and many of us headed down to Sheep Bridge, one of Blake’s favorite, if not his absolute favorite places to fish. Thom told a story about a fishing adventure with him there, where, with waders on, Blake fell into a hole in the river and was completely submerged for a moment. (Blake had many instances like this and always came out almost unscathed.) Thom told about Blake’s favorite fishing lure, J-11, which he had encased in a vacuum-sealed bag, along with a four-pound rock, and some of Blake’s ashes. He scoped the area out a couple of nights earlier to find the perfect place for Blake’s ashes to land, so that we would know exactly where we could visit him. Thom then tossed the bag into the water, AND IT FLOATED!!! Even in the afterlife, Blake’s destination will not be determined by someone else.

Our beautiful boy, you were and are so, so loved and such a blessing to so many! Be free!!!

Thank you to everyone who showed up and those who were with us in spirit. You eased our pain for a little while, and we will remember always. We love you all! I think the day couldn’t have been better if Blake had planned it himself.

And I definitely think he had a hand in this day….check out the orbs in the following pictures, and one of the purple balloons marking the way to his Celebration that mysteriously floated overhead in the exact location where his ashes were dispersed.

Just a couple of pics since then – the frittata I made for breakfast the next day – I felt like I was cooking with Blake in the kitchen:

And yesterday, while I was at the kitchen sink, a big robin came and sat in the planter in front of the kitchen window. Then two other robins flew in and landed on the small tree nearby. Of course Blake would bring friends. When the other two birds flew away, I asked the bird in the planter to stay so I could get a picture…