Hands Tied

Day after day I ask myself how I will move forward without Grant. I get through the day thinking and talking to him like he is still here just not in my sight. For many that may seem weird, strange, maybe even creepy;  for those that have lost deep it’s not only finding peace and understanding with their death it also includes searching for apart of yourself that you just can’t seem to find. Happy just isn’t familiar to you anymore and the moments you do feel a bit of joy feeling guilty. A mother would say their child is a very part of them. I could imagine that life would go on without one of my limbs, a breast, even all ten flanges, but never could I have imagined living without one of my children. All too often I hear the phrase “I couldn’t live without you” in a song, poem or letter. I have thought a lot about that saying except the end to that quote should be “but I still have to”.  Some may say otherwise, but I find it to be truth. We just miserably have to find our way even knowing there is the reality that others have lost more than one of their beloved.  Is their pain a deeper pain than mine?  I would suppose it is… I can’t imagine the depth of those who have lost more than one love in their life. Grief is scary, it’s unpredictable, its dark, cold and cruel. One moment I may need a hug and at other times I may despise the touch… it’s hard for me to put words to that feeling. Sometimes a hug feels good and other times I’m too angry to appreciate any sort of comfort… Wearing my grief is like clothes… There are days I can walk out the door barring/excepting the reflection of how I really feel and other days I just want to pull the mirror off the wall and shatter it with my two bare feet…. There are days I can shake the devil off my back and other days I feel like he’s sitting on my chest… Days I want to get up and take back my deserved happy… If I could explain grief on a chalkboard I’d scribble up and down all over… Circle forward, backwards, and all around because that’s how unfamiliar grief feels. I have my moments of feeling some peace and the next minute am scared to death of life without him.  Almost two years and it feels like yesterday… I play the days, weeks over and over in my head; good days, bad days, almost as if maybe I can still fix things. I dream so often Grant is still a part of my day; in a strange way I dream in the past and wake up to the present.

I pay attention to the awareness of prescription drug addiction; where it begins and where far too often it ends…. The awareness was something I didn’t really tune into 3-4 years ago. I’m not really sure if it just wasn’t as talked about or if I was just ignored it thinking like any issue in my life would find a way to fix it. That WAS NOT our family, that WAS NOT my child. That money or the right doctors should fix this.  I was naive and believed that what Grant himself really wanted, sobriety, was an easy choice.  28 days and $30,000 later he be rid of the demon. I believed that desire and promises were more powerful than the monster he called Slick.

The second stay at Hazelden Grant and I sat down with his councilor to go over his recovery plan before his discharge, she did suggest that Grant do after care, which Grant chose not to and HIPPA held my hands tied.

“I would not move forward if it meant leaving Emmy behind. I don’t know how anyone can pretend a child never existed, take down their pictures, remove their things…No, I do not leave her behind and “move on”, I move forward, with all 5 children–one running a bit ahead…just out of sight.” ~from Today ~ Moving Forward 2/16/08

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