Day 41

Tomorrow will be 6 weeks since he died. Yesterday I had to tell my 19 year old daughter not to live here anymore unless she was clean. The day before that I had to call 911 because she came home severely drunk and high. It turns out her heart rate was over 180, she also could have died. I have tried for years with her. I cannot believe this. Being back at home seems to be making her worse. Tough love may be the only solution, plus it is the only thing I haven't completely followed through on yet. I love her so much, but perhaps I have shielded her from far too many consequences. I have been her problem solver and I don't think it's done her an ounce of good. I love her so much which is what makes this all so hard. Please God help her find her way.

My mother died when I was 7, my father when I was 12, and my only sibling - my brother - almost 15 years ago. They all died in horrible shocking unnatural aways ~ the worst ways imaginable. One night I went to bed living with my family, and the next day I would never live with any of them again. My mother, father, and brother all died in their 30's, my son barely into his 20's, and my oldest daughter may not make it out of her teens. Her 20th birthday is in less than 3 months. My other daughter has a 95% average and is off to University in the fall. She wants a career where she helps people. I tell her to make sure she has passion for whatever career she chooses; I want her to be happy. I hold it together for my girls. I don't really know how. At least life has prepared me for my son's death. I know it would be much harder for many other mothers who have not had such a large theme of death running through their lives. I don't feel sorry for myself but I often wonder why this is my lot in life. Did I choose to learn these toughest of life lessons here on earth before I was even born into this lifetime? Or is this some kind of a sick joke?

A few nights ago I dreamt that I was driving with an unknown male friend and we were in a car accident ~ which I caused. On one leg he lost his foot and on the other one his entire leg from his kneecap down. I believe this represents how I feel like I crippled my son, how I am to blame for his death. In the dream I try to tell him that it's not so bad, that he'll be OK without his leg and foot. I feel like I didn't try hard enough with my son. That I should have been more serious, that I should have KNOWN more about what was going on, that I should have been less lackadaisical. I feel like I am responsible. I feel like I am a murderer.

Many days when I wake up I have to repeat this mantra in my mind over and over before I can get out of bed

"He Would Want Me to Be Happy, He Would Want Me to Be Happy".

This is more helpful than I can imagine, because more than anything I KNOW my son would want me to be happy. I know that he loved me like crazy. He knows he was my favourite person to go out with in the entire world; I told him often. I pray that he watches over his sister while she struggles with her addictions. Her being back at home since his death has made her worse. I cripple her by letting her stay here, yet having her leave causes me immense pain. I love her so much. I wish to God I could redo everything. How things turned out has made me question almost every decision I have ever made. Fuck my life.

Oddly enough deep down inside I KNOW I will get over (or through) his death. I know there is no point in just existing, that I must live again. Peeling myself out of the nest of pillows, cushions, and blankets I have made for myself on the sofa is very difficult. Thank God for good books, and pure fluff reruns like Sex and the City. Thank God I work for myself and don't have to leave home to work. I can't imagine how insane or stressful that would be. Then again, perhaps it would be a welcome reprieve ~ in time.

For now I concentrate on not going insane. The mornings are always the worst. I must move on, I must move on. Instead of always googling "My son died of an overdose" I find myself googling "The best things in life" and "Things that make you happy". I think of this as high success, and I will try to continue on this theme of optimism when I feel myself ONLY getting pulled into the very bad things. It is a FACT that I MUST get over this and try to be happy again. Even writing that fills my heart up a bit. I can't always think about the bad. That is what comes so easily. So I try to steer my brain into more optimistic thoughts. That is what will keep me alive and sane. There ARE many amazing things in life still. I just have to allow myself to LET myself focus on them. I know happy things are out there and waiting for me. I know it's up to me to walk towards them slowly, even when they feel impossibly out of reach. Happiness ALWAYS exists. It never goes away. It's just hard to find right now.

Happiness never dies. And I know my son didn't die either. He is waiting for me. And I will always love him. I will LIVE my life again until we will once more be together. I refuse to just exist. I must LIVE God dammit !!!! That really is the only logical way.

I have read that many many mothers never get over the death of a child. I don't want my son to be the cause of a lifetime of unhappiness for me. He would hate that more than anything else, because he loved me. I must honour his life by living my life well.

I have always honoured my parents and brothers short lives by trying to live a very large happy life. I must celebrate my son by trying to still live life to the fullest. I mustn't wait too long. There is time for grieving and time for living. I look forward to reaching the latter. I love my son and will not let him down. My eventual happiness will be my gift to him. And I know he deserves that.