I’ve been in this for a while now. Addiction has broken me to my core. Watching your child spiral into the abyss is heart-wrenching.
Every day I check in with the support group- one is local and one is specifically for Christian mothers. We all gather, we share our story, we ask for prayer or advice, and vent. Many stories share the same tone, the same pain, anger, disgust, frustration, sadness, and hopelessness.
But then there are those posting their final post. Their child, at whatever age it may be, is now forever gone.
“My son overdosed, March 22.”
“They found my daughter’s body on February 28. I am so numb.”
“I can’t breathe, my baby is gone. #Forever33”
It’s a punch to the gut of those who send condolences, prayers, hugs, and the endless ‘I’m..so..sorry.”
Overdose deaths were around 100 a day in 2019- imagine what it is now.
Opioid overdose alone was responsible for the deaths of 38 human souls a day.
These are people with families, children, jobs, homes. This is not an illness of the homeless! Homelessness is often a side effect of substance use. These are beautiful people we know, who we love and wanted to be free.
Their families tried everything they could. But parents can’t fix it. We can’t pull a bottle of syrup out of the medicine cabinet, or a tablet out of the childproof container. We have no power to lock our child up for the long term rehabilitation they require to help themselves. We are stuck with three day mental health holds and manipulating words that break these lost beauties out of what they call their medical prison and back into the prison of their addiction.
I am one of thousands of parents around the world who endure this bitter journey. One single mother in a mix of moms wanting someone to help them help their child. Even those who can help can’t help the person who doesn’t want it.
This candle is lit by all of us parents praying for all of you family members who lost your loved one. We cannot identify with your grief. Our living grief does not compare. This candle burns for the children left with you, who will need strength that you probably don’t think you have. We light this for you and your broken heart, exhausted mind, and crushed soul.
There are no words. We just want to sit here for a moment to recognize you.