My Dearest Blake – September 22, 2019

Today marks one year since your beloved Nala jumped out of the window of the car as you neared the ocean. I can only imagine that the smell of the salty air made her lose her mind and throw any sense of caution to the wind. I remember that day, although I had no idea what happened until weeks later. On that day, your dad and I were at Oktoberfest in downtown Bend. I got a message from McKenzie, only telling me that you were going to buy liquor and she didn’t know what to do. You had a pretty good amount of ‘clean’ time at this point, but I was still hesitant to interfere. I did though, reminding you that you would be mad at yourself later. You told me to leave you alone. I let you know that, as always, I was available for you. I wish I knew what happened.

Later, you texted me that I should get a refund from the taxidermist that you paid to mount your trophy rainbow trout because he never did the job. You were concerned that you owed me money. I told you that I wasn’t concerned about it and asked if you were okay. You said you were fine, but I was scared. We made some small talk about my workouts and the muscle gains I was experiencing. You told me you were proud of me. In your next text, you said, “I seriously don’t think I could stand living without my momma.” My response was, “That’s the way it’s supposed to be – the natural order of life. Mommas’ hearts break, and they are never the same, when their children pre-decease them.” I didn’t know the heartbreak you were experiencing or the context of your texts. I imagine now that you were comparing the grief that you were feeling over the loss of Nala to the grief that you would likely feel if you lost me.

It would be a number of weeks before I found out what happened, and it was only by accident. I saw a super cute spider dog Halloween costume. I shared it on your Facebook page, commenting that Nala would make an adorable spider. When you commented “Dead Nala?” I had no idea what you were talking about. I messaged you, and you only told me that she died and that you didn’t want to talk about it. I had to text McKenzie to get further details.

My heart broke for you. Nala was such a wonderful spirit. She literally saved your life earlier that year when you overdosed in a motel room. She barked and barked until someone opened the door and called 9-1-1. You took her everywhere with you. She saw you at your worst and at your best, and she loved you no matter what – just like me.

You were just beginning to entertain the idea of getting another dog. No dog could have replaced Nala, but another dog could have loved you, and you could have loved another dog.

On another topic, Julia sent me an article yesterday that I’d love to talk with you about. There’s a woman by the name of Jennifer Nicolaisen who lives in Asheville, North Carolina. She has started a nonprofit called ‘SeekHealing’, with the tagline “Rethink Rehab.” She asserts that, “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is genuine, meaningful interactions and authentic connections and experiences with ourselves, each other, and the world around us.” Totally reminds me of Johann Hari’s “Chasing the Scream” when he said, “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection.” Her nonprofit gives people opportunities to confront their loneliness and lack of connection by helping them to connect, without judgment. I think it’s absolutely brilliant. I’d love to get your feedback. Here’s the article:

https://qz.com/1693268/a-new-kind-of-rehab-uses-human-connection-to-treat-addiction/?fbclid=IwAR0iyapZmXE5qJjVkUApu1a4fAlsX7mWxcw41X9ZkLXw-HmQfjaJvE9QpCk

You were so tired of traditional treatment. Some would think, ‘well, why didn’t he just quit using then?’ I know. I also know it’s not as simple as that. You were exhausted from spilling your sad story over and over – being forced to live it and re-live it through the telling and re-telling. You were looking for alternative treatment facilities. We talked about work camps and other types of treatment. What you really wanted was wilderness therapy. You had reached out to a place in Colorado, but money was an issue, as insurance dictates the type of treatment a person is allowed to receive, even though treatment is not a one-size-fits-all piece of apparel. Not many things are.

Which leads me to this…some people believe that ‘tough love’ is the be-all-end-all solution to addiction. Because it worked for them, they believe it is the answer for everyone – that every parent should kick their addicted child to the curb, out of love. I have seen this sentiment widely spread on social media. I believe there are compounding factors that need to be considered, like mental illness and suicidal ideation. There are no easy answers, are there? I just want you to know that we did the best we could. I wish we had the answers that would have spared your life. I wish we had the answers that would have spared you from the experience of this disease.

I was honored to tell your story in Warm Springs Friday evening at their Recovery Never Ends Conference. Can you believe I spoke for 45 minutes with little preparation? I met two women who also lost their sons. It was an amazing experience. I hope you’re proud of me. I know that you know I’m a fighter, and if your story can save even one life, then I will tell it and tell it and tell it. When I talk about you, I feel close to you, so I won’t stop. I know I’m not going to stop this epidemic, but I’m adding my voice to the arsenal. Here I am in Warm Springs (wearing the boots you gifted me Christmas 2016 – you were so proud):

Dad’s been thinking about you a lot. When John came up for your Celebration, he brought a 1961 Ford F250 4X4 that he found in Medford for $600. You would love it! I hope you can visit dad while he’s working on it. He’s hoping to be able to keep it as a work truck. He’s already put new brakes in, replaced the water pump, rebuilt the carburetor, and made a key. All that, and he’s spent less than $200 on parts. It purrs, and the body is straight.

We took it down to the marina last Saturday night. It was the night after the harvest moon, so it was really bright. I guess I don’t need to tell you this, because you were there. Thanks for visiting. I found it so comforting. Seeing you dancing with the moon was beautiful. (Not everyone will believe, but I do!)

Tomorrow marks two months since you departed this earth – well, by the doctors’ calculation. I believe you actually left on the 21st. Not one day has passed that I have not cried – multiple times. I told you that this would change me, and when I look at pictures of myself now, I can see it in my eyes. I hope to get my spark back. I’m not always sad, but there is always a sadness. I wish I could hug you.

I love you my dear son, to infinity and beyond. You were the first real love of my life. Fly high, be free, and visit anytime.

Love you forever,

Your Mama