The three of you will never walk this same path again, so much has changed, time has passed fleetingly, most of which I can recall but large passages of time I feel I wasn’t present, in my grief and continued disbelief I tuned out, waiting for you to return. While I wasn’t paying attention your son grew into a wise young man, your brother became Dr Quon and your sister masterfully completed further study. I marched time, I painted the laundry purple, oh how you would have carried on about that before you slipped into a state of being comfortably numb.
Why does grief associated with drug use swirl the grief stricken into a tight whirlpool of emotions, thoughts and attachment to what if?
2015 has ended, another 365 days have been and gone, you weren’t here to see the sunrises or the sunsets, you weren’t here to share our birthdays, Christmas dinner or destroy New Years Eve with your ravaging partying. I am still on edge listening for you to arrive home safely, a parents fear is that you will be harmed or in even worse you might harm another. 2016 I plan to put my obsessive thinking into a box and secure the lid, not to go into denial but rather to become a more useful and productive person.
No doubt over this festive period another family somewhere is struggling either with intensive use by a loved one or the sudden death of a loved one. Drugs begin the party and they end the party. They, drugs, once they have taken grip do not allow you to choose your path. Families don’t choose this path yet are thrust onto it, confused by the signs, the directions and the endless miles of road ahead.
Let 2016 be 365 days of boldly finding a new path where up is not down.