Did "Expecting" Sam's Death Make it Easier?

I know that people wonder this because I did too. What does it feel like to lose someone who has suffered from addiction for so long? To be forced to surrender? To be free of the constant state of agitation? I hate that I have the answer now.

I watched Sam walk a fine line between life and death for 8 years. I obsessed over his whereabouts, the call that might come, and if I would have the courage to face the worst possible outcome if I needed to. During his last months, his addiction gained momentum and I knew that our time may be running out. I could feel him disconnecting and pushing us away. I had heard that death after long-term addiction brings a sort of relief and I understand that now.

Every time Sam overdosed, I had to face the excruciating fear of losing someone I loved more than life itself. I was so relieved when he survived but felt no joy or happiness because I knew his carelessness couldn't last forever. He never got upset or freaked out when he overdosed either and I could not understand how he could get so close to dying and not seem to care. In this way, yes, there is relief in knowing that I survived that horrible call and that it's over. If only the rest were that easy.

Death was merely the one-time event that lead to this forever loss. It sucked and was horrible but it was only the beginning. Days upon days have been spent in shock. Belief and disbelief. A constant swollen and puffy face and I have aged significantly. Sam's death feels like the icing on the cake of chaos, trauma, and dread. His final act of being human. Eight years prepared me for the fact that if he didn't quit, he would die, but I never thought beyond that because I didn't have to.

Now that Sam is gone, the thought of going through the rest of my life without him is brutally painful and this is where I don't differ from any other mom who has lost a son. The anguish of his death itself will lessen in time but the loss of his life never will. When a mom loses a kid, no matter how old or young, a part of her is broken forever. So, no, the anticipation of losing Sam does not make his absence easier.

I know that others judge people like Sam when they see them on the streets but I know better. When I think of Sam crying in my arms just a few months ago, he was really just my hurt little boy. He needed something that I could not give him and my hope wasn't enough to save him. At some point, he decided he was done disappointing himself and others by relapsing and he never tried to quit using again. I didn't want to accept this but I respected his honesty.

I miss Sam so much but I don't miss the last few months of his life. His spark had diminished and he was growing more and more judgmental of himself and others. We could still see glimpses of him but he was slipping away. How is it that I could carry this boy in my body for 9 months, protect him for 15 years, and then gradually lose him over the last 8? I had never felt so helpless and useless and I don't miss that.

I saw the word relief defined as "A feeling of relaxation or reassurance following a release from anxiety or stress." I now feel reassurance that I no longer carry the worry of losing my son but I don't feel relaxed or free from anxiety or stress, maybe in time.

Where there is Life, there is Hope

#nomoreshame