Tag: child loss

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Miracles Abound

June 13, 2021

My Dearest Blaker,

It has been quite the month! I’m going to go all the way back to Mother’s Day with this letter to you. I want to acknowledge all of the ways you’ve shown up for me and express my gratitude and explain the impact this has made on me.

Mother’s Day

This was my second Mother’s Day without your physical presence. I told dad that I didn’t want to be at home, that I felt a need to get away from the daily responsibilities that even present themselves on weekends. It would have been fine with me if we just got up in the morning and went somewhere, but dad suggested that we find somewhere to go Saturday night.

We ended up getting a cabin at Diamond Lake. Even though we live just a little over an hour from this lake, I have not been there since I was nine weeks pregnant with you. There are so many beautiful places near us, that we just haven’t gone there.

We set out late Saturday afternoon and stopped to get some snacks at Grocery Outlet. I ran in and dad stayed in the truck with Sarafina. After grabbing the items we wanted, I stood in line behind a boy of probably ten or eleven years old. He had a card in his hand. His mom passed by pushing a basket. She told him that he would need to get the envelope that goes with the card. He got out of line and retrieved an envelope that the card would fit into. This is where it gets cool. He returned to his spot in front of me and started talking to me about the variety of cards available and how with all of those cards, they didn’t have a Mother’s Day specific card. He showed me the card he picked for his mom and read it to me. The gist of the card was that on the dog’s special day, it was the human’s turn to fetch while the dog relaxed. Pretty smart boy. He told me that he was going to mark through the Birthday part of ‘Happy Birthday’ and write Mother’s Day. I assured him that his mom would love it. He was concerned about the cost of the card because he only had $5 and didn’t know where the price was. I showed him and he went ahead paid for the card. Before he left, he looked back and gave me a big smile. I gave him a thumbs up.

Thank you for sending sons who love their mamas to me, for reminding me of how you loved me in your physical form. Thank you for managing to gift me with a Mother’s Day card from you on that day. That’s what it felt like – like you found a way to send me a card.

On Mother’s Day morning, we woke up to a cold and cloudy morning at Diamond Lake. We got everything loaded back up in the truck and went to the lodge where dad and I both ordered you favorite restaurant breakfast of chicken fried steak. By the time we finished, the sun broke through the clouds and it was warming a bit. Without any real plan, we set out to explore. We headed West on Oregon Highway 138 to Watson Falls, where we hiked to what is the 3rd highest waterfall in Oregon. This was Sarafina’s first hike like this. She did pretty well, but she needs more leash training.

Heading East, our next stop was Whitehorse Falls. This waterfall was right next to the parking lot, so there was no real hike required. There were lots of logs in the water that made for pretty formations and waterways. We spent some time breathing in the beauty and taking pictures, and resumed our journey to the next stop.

There was a short hike at Clearwater Falls. Above the falls was very clear water. Dad said the clarity of the water reminded him of Fall River. We got some beautiful pictures here too. As we were almost back to the parking lot, dad headed to the restroom, and a beautiful and uniquely colored light purple and aquamarine butterfly flew in front of me. I asked you to send it back to me, thinking you may have sent it to begin with. It flew right back to me and landed on my shoe. I took multiple pictures of it. It then stayed nearby, repeatedly taking flight and landing, opening its wings, seemingly for my enjoyment and amazement. I enjoyed this sign for at least five minutes.

The last stop of the day was at Lemolo Lake. What a great discovery this lake was! Guess who learned that she could swim? Sarafina! This was such a joyful stop. It reminded me so much of you and Nala and how much you loved her. I’m so happy to be Sarafina’s hu-mom, so that I can experience and remember the love and joy you shared with Nala.

I felt so refreshed and revitalized after this day. I felt full of love. I felt alive.

Here’s the slideshow video that I created of this adventure.

The song, “Lovely Day”, used in this slideshow, was written by Bill Withers and Skip Scarborough and recorded and released by Bill Withers in 1977.

Boise

Over Memorial Day weekend, we took Pop to Boise to visit the gravesite of his wife who transitioned last August. It is admittedly very difficult to be in a semi care-taking role of an elderly father-in-law. It is complicated to say the least. Dad took Pop to visit Anita, and I spent time at the pool reading a book called “Together Forever” by Anna Marie Enea. Anna suddenly lost her 24-year-old son after a motorcycle accident. It’s not about what took him though, it’s about the journey that she made in connecting with him, in recognizing signs, and establishing a new relationship with him. I actually just finished the book, and it has really been helpful. Anyway, I’m out by the pool reading this book, and I’m at a part where she’s talking about receiving a beautiful scent from her son Sal. She noticed this same scent repeatedly in the morning and before bed and there was no explanation for it. I thought that was really cool. So I said quietly, “Hey Blake, could you send me a scent like maybe honeysuckle or some other scent that you’d like to send me, that doesn’t smell like freshly poured blacktop – because that was what was happening in the parking lot just beyond the pool?” No sooner had I made this request and I hear your name. I thought I had imagined it, but then I heard it again. One of the blacktop workers was talking with his co-workers about someone he knew named Blake. I thought that was pretty humorous. Such a comedian you are!

Later on, we were looking for a place to eat dinner. I found a new food truck pod that had just opened that weekend, so we went to check it out. On our way there, I saw these sunflowers, probably steel, maybe plastic, that were in front of this building. They were so pretty and bright. I took some pictures of them. Among the sunflowers were orbs and a rainbow. Thank you.

We arrived at the food truck pod. The location was really nice, but there were only about 6 trucks. I convinced Dad to check it out anyway. The first truck was not really a truck, but more of a canopy covered spot. The guy there, his name is Ben, was selling bottled kava. He has a company called Karuna Kava, and a website with the same name. When I first walked up to his table, he was talking with a couple of people about kava and his struggles with addiction, so I meandered around the remaining trucks before returning to his spot. I explained to him that I’ve been curious if kava might help me with my sleep issues. I also told him I heard him discussing his struggles with his previous customers and that my sleep issues started after you transitioned following a long battle with substance use disorder. We shared back and forth a bit and he offered some facts about kava and his process. He said he wished he would have known you. I told him that the two of you would have been friends. Before pouring our drink, he asked if he could give me a hug. It was such a good hug – the intensity of it brought me to tears. In the moment, I knew that hug was from Ben and from you.

New Job and Tahoe

I’m starting a new job as a Health Educator, through La Pine Community Health Clinic. I am absolutely ecstatic. I actually start tomorrow. I will be working with youth and their families, through the school based health clinics, the main clinic, and in the schools, to educate and advocate in support of prevention and treatment. This will include substance abuse and substance use disorder. I am so excited to begin this work. I know that I will be shaky sometimes, but I realize that this is my space, and that I need to have courage to stand in my space. Working as a paralegal for the last ten months affirmed to me that I cannot just decide to not be who I am or turn my back on my purpose. I needed this reminder, and I needed the time away from my calling to completely realize this. It also helped that the management style of my now previous work place was not conducive to my positive well being. This increased the pressure in me that catapulted me back to where I belong. About five hours after my in person interview at the clinic, the nursing supervisor called me to offer me the job. She told me that I had made their day, and she told me that you would be proud. I know you are proud, and so am I. Proud and humbled and honored and ready.

I knew I wanted to take a quick vacation before starting my new job. Dad couldn’t go with me because he just started a new job. Initially I thought a trip to the Oregon coast would be just what I needed. I checked the weather, and it was just not warm enough to be fully enjoyable to me. I looked at some other areas, but I kept thinking about Lake Tahoe – the place I lived when I was pregnant with you and the shores we visited so many summer days and you snowboarded the mountains overlooking the basin during the winters.

I splurged on a room for myself, staying at a place with its own private beach. The trip was miraculous in so many ways. I spent the evening of my arrival soaking up the last warm sun rays of the day. There was a man on the beach with his two daughters. He was swimming under the water and coming up with what he called “butterfly wings” – the connected shell house of Tahoe’s native mussel. He was scooping up as many as he could find and excitedly told his daughters they were going to do an art project with these treasures. I asked if I could see them as I was passing by on my way to my studio. He was happy to oblige.

The next morning, I got up, dressed warmly, and went down to the beach with the same book I mentioned earlier. I took a few moments and breathed in the cool morning lake air. I felt peace. I read for awhile, returned to my room for a workout and went back to the beach with a journal for writing. I met the man and his daughters on the path to the beach. I asked if he was going to find more butterfly wings. He said he hoped so and said that he was thinking of calling them angel wings instead of butterfly wings. I said, “Oh, I love that. I have a very special angel.” I shared just a bit and showed him the tattoo of you in the moon. He had actually commented on my tattoos the day before. There was a woman with him that morning- maybe a cousin or niece, because his wife came down later. She was listening to this conversation. She offered her condolences for my loss of you. I thanked her and for some reason explained that I didn’t lose you though – only the physicality of you – that everything is energy and that I feel your presence all around me and that that presence is love. I wrote this as I sat on the beach:

Earth, wind, water, fire

Body, soul, spirit

Energy

Love

Sweet Love

Eternally

And this…..

This place, Another time

This woman, A different version

Then filled with impending life, Now filled with infinite love

So much to prove, looking out, So much to feel, looking in

Restless, longing to be loved, Courageous, realizing I am love

His birth sparked my first true love, His transition ignited its power

I return to this place, As love, forever loving, and forever loved.

It was windy that day, and the man and his family grew tired of its interference with their desired activity. He came to where I was writing and said, ‘Hi, I don’t want to kick sand in your face.’ Kneeling on one knee, he said, ‘I just wanted to come over and wish you a beautiful life. Maybe our paths will cross again.’ I asked his name and he answered “Ryan.” I told him my name and thanked him. And tears filled my eyes.

I spent a bit more time at the beach before realizing that just because I wasn’t sweating didn’t mean I wasn’t burning. I went up to my room, changed, and went to do some shopping and then had an early dinner, where my server gave me a 20% locals’ discount, saying that some people deserve that treatment. Maybe she could tell I was local in another time; maybe I looked comfortable.

I got up the next morning, worked out, showered, and went in search of the beach where we spent so many summer days – just you and me, then you, me, and Dad, and then you, me, Dad, and Lucas. It took a bit of searching, and when I felt I had passed it, I turned around, drove a few hundred feet and pulled off the road into a parking area. I don’t know what I was planning to do there, but as soon as I put my truck in park and looked around a second, I laughed. This was the spot!

It was freezing cold that day, and the wind was blowing that cold air right through me. There was no one on the beach, which is now a private beach that belongs to the cabins that sit a few hundred feet from the shoreline. They had lounge chairs out, so I sat down on one and covered myself with a beach towel, attempting to shield myself from the frigid gusts of air. I was filled with sweet memories of days of curiosity, play, and freedom shared with my life’s most precious gifts.

I met my dad and youngest brother for lunch and then took a leisurely drive back to my place, stopping to take pictures along the way. I laid down for a little bit before getting enough energy restored to drive to Eagle Falls Trail. The drive there took me by Inspiration point which overlooks Emerald Bay. More picture taking. I felt a bit timid when I got to the Falls trailhead because it was a bit of a climb and that fear of heights kicked in. I wanted to do it though, so I just took my time, and was rewarded with beautiful nature and energy. As soon as I returned to my truck, Dad called. I had him on bluetooth, so I talked to him while I navigated the 10mph hairpin turns on the roadway. When I came upon a beautiful creek, I pulled off the road and took him with me, explaining what I was seeing. I looked across the road, and noticed a trail, so I crossed over to investigate. The trail was called Rainbow Trail, and there were rainbows everywhere!!! It was absolutely magickal! I felt like you guided me to this spot. I didn’t know anything about it. I just felt this urge to pull off the road and I followed it.

I put together this collage of your infant and toddler days on the shores of Lake Tahoe and this slide show of my time there this last week.

The song, “Let Your Love Flow”, used in this slideshow, was written by Larry E. Williams and recorded and released by The Belamy Brothers in 1976.

I returned home the next day. It was a long drive after such a beautiful time with you. I am so grateful for your continued teachings, for your love, for your presence, for your humor, and for all of the twirling orbs, the rainbows, and the people that you send my way to love on me for you. I certainly could not have anticipated when I stood next to your bed blessing you and inviting you to visit anytime, that this is where we’d be now. You are still, and always will be, my beautiful boy.

Advocacy Day

Now let me wipe my tears, and tell you that I woke up early the next day to write a speech to be delivered shortly after noon for Oregon Recovers Advocacy Day in front of Oregon’s state capitol. I wrote the speech, showered, and drove to Salem, a three hour, much slower than necessary, drive after driving seven plus hours the day before. After the speech, I shook some hands of legislators, talked with other moms, advocates, and people in recovery. The young people in recovery filled my cup. Jack came right up to me and wrapped me up with a huge hug. He’s trying. A young woman shared that she has six weeks – she’s trying too. Please watch out for them. For all of them.

Here’s the recording of my speech:

New Chapter

I look forward to this new chapter that I turn the page to after one more sleep. I know I’ll see you there. I’ll need you there, you know? We’ve got work to do, together. I love you to infinity and beyond!

I am forever your mama.

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Connection as Healing and Other Stuff

It’s 5pm on a Sunday evening. I’ve been meaning to get to the sanctuary of my loft to write all day, but first a task that I must accomplish, and then the sun is out, and I must read in the sun. And it might just be too late now, but I’m going to write anyway. I have a lot of this and thats, not any one thing in particular to write about. Maybe a theme will emerge, and maybe not. Since it feels like it might be just some rambling right now, I am addressing this blog entry as a letter to Blake, but Blake is in everyone. He is in all that are hurting, all that are loving, all that are driven to escape, and all that are seeking truth. He is we, and we are us.

My Dearest Blaker,

I have so much to tell you, and it is with deep gratitude that I know that you already know. I also know that you will listen to me tell you these stories and replay little snippets of my life for you, because love. Where to start…

I was just on the phone with Heather, and we were talking about a very special person’s journey to healing. She said that she believes this person’s healing really took hold because of her connection to her counselor. I believe that’s where all healing starts – with connection to another human. Johann Hari said that, “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety; the opposite of addiction is connection.” I believe this to be true. But I believe it goes further than this. The opposite of greed, the opposite of jealousy, the opposite of hatred, the opposite of self doubt,…and the list goes on, maybe not the opposite, but the antidote. We have the power to heal each other, if we just show up, ya know? It doesn’t have to be perfect; we just have to be willing. It’s going to be messy, and we’re going to make mistakes, but we’re also going to discover beauty within ourselves and within each other. That beauty, that light, inspires further healing, and the light radiates further, and allows us to reach out even more. There is no end to our capacity for healing, but we have to take that first step. We have to show up.

Why is it so hard to show up, so easy to hide away when we are feeling pain? For myself, sometimes I just want to crawl into a hole and isolate. I even know that showing up is the answer to my despair. And it’s not even that I want to stay in my pity party of one. Admittedly, I do like to spend time alone, but the being alone that I’m referring to is different than wanting to be alone to recharge. This kind of isolation is knowingly doing the opposite of what I know would boost my spirit. I don’t know why I do this. I bet you did this when you were in your physical form too. I know you did. I bet most people do this at one time or another.

I believe we have a choice to make. I have a choice to make. I can take all that I am, bottle it up, and stop becoming, or I can reach out and show up, even when the tears are flowing and the ‘ugly’ crying face is real, and I can be seen. And you know what happens when you or I show up like this? Other people cry too, because they have a similar experience or they can share our feelings or acknowledge the pain of what we’re feeling. Sometimes we show up to love, and sometimes we show up to be loved. When we don’t have enough love for ourselves or when we’re afraid we’re going to break if we’re in the presence of others, we have to show up. I’m not talking about showing up for obligations, I’m talking about showing up for a cup of coffee or tea with a friend, a walk, or a trip to the beach. It seems we occupy most of our time with the obligations and pass on the opportunities that contribute to our well being.

Just two weeks ago, I made a decision to refocus on my health and nutrition. You may have noticed that I’ve been throwing lots of stuff in the f#*! it bucket lately. That is the opposite of showing up. So I’m back on track and feeling better already. That helps me show up. It’s not easy to turn things around when you get off track, but baby steps are a good place to start.

Last weekend was a huge step. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to pay tribute to you. So many of the things I’ve thought about feel heavy to me right now. The shaman that I met with a few months ago told me that you advised that I didn’t need to continue fighting addiction, because I had done my time, and that if I did choose to continue fighting addiction, that it was my choice. I don’t feel like I can turn away from addiction because I have knowledge gained from an experience that is now killing 250 people a day. I cannot turn away from that. If my speaking up saves even one life, then it is worth it. So there will be an education and advocacy component. For those 250 lives lost though, there are 250 mothers, fathers, and siblings that are suddenly overcome with grief. For the ones that find themselves in this place, I want to show up. I want to show up with them. I want to celebrate you and all that you were, without this disease, and I want to celebrate their children too.

Someone posted this paragraph from the book “Beartown” by Fredrick Backman, on Facebook yesterday. It is such a beautiful and true description of the love between a parent and their child:

“The love a parent feels for a child is strange. There is a starting point to our love for everyone else, but not this person. This one, we have always loved, we loved them before they even existed. No matter how well-prepared they are, all moms and dads experience a moment of total shock, when the tidal waves of feelings first washes through them, knocking them off their feet. It’s incomprehensible, because there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like trying to describe sand between your toes or snowflakes on your tongue, to someone who’s lived their whole life in a dark room. It sends the soul flying.”

It makes sense then, that when the physical being of a child is stripped from this Earth, from the arms of their parents, forever, that the souls of the parents would plummet to depths not meant to be seen. It is work to climb from those depths. It is the most unfair thing that could happen. It takes faith that the love remains and always will. The meaning that I make out of our last conversation including these two words continues to evolve. “Faith” and “love,” that is what this is all about – this child loss journey. And in the broader sense, that is what life is all about.

So last weekend, I went with friends to Lincoln City. We rented an AirBnB right on the beach. We had a view of the ocean from a big window in the living room. One of my friends has a child, Sean, who is with you on the Otherside. Two of my friends have children who are fighting addiction. We all know the realities of this disease. It is exhausting to parents who have a child with substance use disorder, but know that I’d do it all again knowing the outcome. I’m glad that the four of us moms found each other, and I wish that I had known them when you were present on Earth. I believe we are the only ones that can sit with each other, without judgment, and hear the details of how addiction steals our children, leaving us feeling frightened and helpless, although never hopeless, unless we lose.

But, we must go on right? I know, with every ounce of my being, that you expect me to go on, that you do not want me to bottle myself up. I know you want me to continue being the person you saw. So together, Kim and I, Jenn and Brandee, along with you and Sean, and many other angel children sent to us by their mothers, held a ceremony of dance and celebration on the beach at sunset. It was beautiful Blake. I know you were there. I know we were surrounded by angels. This ritual, as it will become, done with others, brought so much healing. It took me to another place – a place of deep connection and knowing, a place of being seen, where the love was acknowledged and celebrated and held in sacred space. It was freedom Blake.

The power of healing together.

Kim and I want more moms to experience this. We’re going to work on this with Jen and Brandee. It was Kim’s idea to invite Sacred Mamas to send us pictures of their angel children so that we could take them to the beach. I joined in after listening to an episode of Irene Weinberg’s “Grief and Rebirth” podcast with Paige W. Lee. I have since purchased Ms. Lee’s book “Choose to Believe: A Story of Miracles, Healing, and the Afterlife,” which I recommend. While listening to this podcast, I got chills that vibrated up and down my whole body. It was a knowing that healing is possible. In that moment, I felt inspired to show up for healing, to take action for my own healing, and in that process, the healing of others. Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be perfect; we just have to be willing. I know that healing the self inspires others to heal, even if they think they can’t or they think they aren’t ready. We can sit side by side and just accept each other where we are, and we can take each others’ hand, and walk together. I wish you had found that profound sense of connection.

We played in the sand Blake. I built rock creatures, one representing you, and one representing Sean. Kim and I talked to our rock creature sons and posed for pictures. You and Sean were probably laughing with each other at your silly moms. But you know we did this because we love you both so much. Play is healing, and playing together is exponentially more healing.

Play is healing.
Thanks to you and Sean for being with us!

As a group, we made a mandala. The first time the four of us got together after we met as a group for the first time on Advocacy Day (which was on your birthday last year), we met to pick fruit. Out in the orchard, we made our first group mandala. I believe it will be a thing we do together wherever we go. Mandalas are a creation of beauty and connection. The circle, representing the concept of no beginning and no end, is a representation of our love for our children. I also believe that it is a representation of life, although in human form, we recognize a beginning and an end. We worked on the design together and carefully set the rocks for symmetry, so that one side mirrored the other, which to me signifies giving and receiving light. Stepping inside our mandala creation, we joined hands and shared energy.

It was a beautiful weekend and very difficult to return to the work week. On Friday morning, you showed up as a robin, or you sent a robin, to get my attention by repeatedly flying into the living room window. You know, some people might think believing in signs like I do is crazy, but it doesn’t matter. It’s what I feel in my heart. It’s faith and love, right? So the robin – I’ve read before that this bird has spiritual significance, so I looked it up. On learnreligions.com, it says, “A little robin, with its quirks, is a messenger sent by the divine and the angels to remind you that you are not alone. Even when inside you are not alone. A robin looks for a mate to create a family. Robins leave their home to migrate, and they gather together as a community when food is scarce. They have to go out into that big world, and it takes all their strength to do so…Your robin brings the message of strength. It reminds you to never give up and that you are strong. Have faith in your strength and in your future. Your robin is here to teach you that it may not seem so quite yet, but the world is a safe place for you.”

Then yesterday, I was sitting outside reading the book I talked about earlier. The shade started creeping up on me, so I moved to a sunnier spot. I was sitting there for a few minutes, when I noticed this big white rock about four feet away from me. This was a glistening rock and not native to our area. It looked like it had been outside for some time, as it was dirty on one side. I picked it up and moved it to the table on the deck, intending to research its healing properties later. This morning, dad saw the rock as soon as he woke up. I told him where I found it, and he went out to look at it, determining that it was quartzite. Crystalangelwings.com has this to say about quartzite: “Quartzite stabilizes positive changes by anchoring them in the fabric of your physical subtle bodies. It helps prevent you from slipping back to your old state after you undergo any uplifting change, such as a healing or spiritual experience.” What a beautiful and meaningful gift – an acknowledgment of this journey!

Thank you for the gift of you, in life and in death. I’d do anything to bring you back to your physical form, free from the grips of addiction, if that was possible. Since I know it’s not, I must be with what is, and what is is a continuation of our relationship of love and discovery and learning. You’ve always ignited my curiosity in possibility and challenged my understanding of what is seen and unseen. Of course you would continue to do that in your new free form.

I love you to infinity and beyond!

Your Mama

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Signs

Standing at the storefront in the rain next to Thom, I handed Sarafina’s leash to him, as I told him, “You know I have to go in here.” Stepping through the door, I was surrounded in rich colors and fantastic patterns, clothing that sparks my imagination and appeals to my funky and free style.

I moved slowly through the store, soaking up the textures of the materials through my fingertips, forgetting that Thom was waiting outside with our puppy. I was aware that I was the only person in the store besides the person at the counter. As I got closer to him, I commented on how much I appreciated the store and expressed my wish to be able to dress in clothing like this every day. He responded that he heard this sentiment from many of the people who came into the store.

As I continued to meander through the fabrics and designs, we engaged in casual conversation. Some may not think the conversation was casual, but as a mother to a son on the Otherside, whose birthday it was that day, it was casual. He shared that the store is his mom’s and that he made the decision to move from Colorado to Bandon to help his mom. He was knowledgeable about the merchandise, and the extent that his mother went to in bringing this store’s products to this location. I remarked that just being in the store, I know I would like his mom, that she must be just magical. He said, “That’s a good description of her – yes she is.”

Trying to choose one thing, or a couple of things, I was overwhelmed. It took me back to a shopping trip that we took with Blake to Woodburn Factory Outlet. I told my new friend about this, how I saw these shoes, grey high-tops that were adorned with silver studs and chains, designed by a daughter of one of the rappers from Run DMC. I tried them on and walked around the store in them. I loved them, but they were pretty impractical and kind of expensive. They surely weren’t shoes that I would wear on the daily and probably not even monthly. So, I left them at the store. When we were putting our purchased items in the car, Blake stopped and looked at me, kind of accusatorily. “Mom, where are your shoes!?!” I told him that I decided not to get them, that I didn’t need them. He said, “Mom, you love those shoes. You need to go back and get them.” And I did. And I am so so glad that I did. I have this memory of him recognizing how much I loved something – some thing – that he knew I wanted, and because of that, he wanted it for me, even more than I wanted it for myself.

I told my new friend that it was my firstborn son’s birthday and that he was on the Otherside. I told him that he would tell me I could pick whatever I wanted. I could feel that. It was not just some excuse to go crazy in this store, which I didn’t. It was a message of gratitude from him. But there was this dress, this flowy purple and blue dress of creamy fabric and so much free spirit style that it nearly sashayed itself right off the hanger and across the floor. The blue and purple are significant because sapphire and amethyst are mine and Blake’s birthstones.

I didn’t buy the dress. The price tag was heavy, and it wasn’t really practical. It wasn’t a need. I told my new friend I would think about it and come back the next day if I decided to buy it. We parted ways.

That night, as Thom and I were enjoying our Happy Birthday Tribute to Blake Sushi Dinner, I was thinking about the day. There were really no signs. I’m especially aware of and open to signs on days like this. We planned to enjoy meals that Blake would enjoy, and really, with very little open for a weekday breakfast where we were, it was a sign that we found some really good chicken fried steak that morning.

There were no orbs though, no coins on the ground, no messages sent through technology. These are the signs that I’ve been most familiar with, although I am aware of deeper signs. The deeper ones though, might be missed if I’m not paying attention. I no longer believe in coincidence.

Then I realized that the biggest sign, the most beautiful sign, was this interaction with this person, who before I walked into The Spirit of Oregon in Old Town Bandon, I had not spoken with. This person shared the extent to which he was willing to go for his mother; he shared the love that he has for his mother. I knew – that was my sign.

I went back the next day and tried on and bought the dress. It makes me feel ‘magickal.’ Feeling magickal is practical and necessary and love. I told this person – his name is Jack – the name of my paternal grandpa – that before Blake passed, I didn’t think about the afterlife, but since his passing, I think about it often. I intentionally read about and talk about signs. I told him that he was the messenger of the sign that I received on Blake’s birthday, and I thanked him for sharing the love that he has for his mom with me. He told me that he was glad that he shared with me, and he provided a little more of the backstory. When you know, you cannot unknow, and I know – Blake took me to that shop on his birthday, and he blessed me with this message and this magickal dress. From Jack’s compassion and openness to my gratitude, which I realize might seem over the top to many, I believe he may have needed to hear the story of Blake just as much as I needed to hear the story of his mom.

Here I am with my dress, feeling magickal!

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2020: In the Rearview Mirror

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!