Third Anniversary

March 31, 2020 will be the third anniversary of Sam's heroin overdose. I tend to get more emotional and reflexive as the date approaches. The reason for the shift never occurs until suddenly it smacks me in the heart and I think "Wow, three years ago my son had zero regard for his own life, thank God a stranger did". And, for three years now, the Universe has continued to rally for my son, even when he himself has refused to.

These past couple weeks, as our nation has slowly gone into Coronavirus lock-down, I have often reflected on the sheer magnitude of grace bestowed upon Sam throughout his entire journey, from the very first time he used heroin up to now. The world has managed to keep him alive in spite of himself.

He could have died twice (or any other time he shot heroin), but didn't. He almost lost his arm to sepsis, but didn't. His penalty could have been harsher but he ended up with a very experienced private attorney acting as a public defender. He could still be at an overcrowded medium security prison, where tensions are reportedly running high amid the Coronavirus triggered shutdowns (and consequent visitor shutouts). Instead, he is in Golden where the light at the end of the tunnel for all inmates will likely inspire calm during times like these.

I often think of the many people who have died of heroin overdoses in the past three years and their collective thousands upon thousands of loved ones left with a permanent hole in their heart. I feel sad, overwhelmed, and even a little guilty at times. Mostly, however, I focus on gratitude because that is the emotion with the most potential to enhance my life on a positive and continuous basis.

I have only read through all of my posts one time and that was a year ago when I transferred from FB to blogging. Somewhere in the beginning, I wrote that heroin was not going to take me down too. I am happy to say it hasn't.

I do cry sometimes. I feel tension and worry and I start future-tripping, my number one negative super power. But mostly, I continue to be me. Life is good and I am happy. Heroin did not rob me of that.

There is no such thing as a life without pain, sorrow, grief, and death. It is futile to compare our own situation to another's because as similar as they may or may not look on the outside, no two are alike. It's important to walk in the middle. It is not beneficial to wallow because we believe our pain is worse than any other person's pain, nor to dismiss our own grief because we see someone else's as more tragic.

I feel discomfort and uncertainty. I choose to live with a positive spirit, gratitude, and joy. Where there is life, there is hope.

#nomoreshame

The Final Page of Sam's Elementary School Autobiography

Through all the muck and chaos, I still believe this is the life Sam wants, written in his own words in 3rd grade. Every single day he is walking toward the existence he imagined so many years ago.