Dearest Mothers,
In the beginning, it mattered to me the hows and whys of Clint’s death. My heart and my head argued. My heart keep saying, “He can’t be gone, we still have so much love to give him.” In a strange unfair twist, this love was even greater because it was not hindered with all the stress and chaos involved with dealing with someone struggling with mental illness and drug addiction. This wasn’t fair. I became angry. I had done everything I thought was right. I had been a stay at home mom up until middle school. We were an intact family. Clint had experienced some privileges in his life. We were there for him every step of the way. We tried to handle what we knew and what we understood.
Only after he died, did we begin to see more of the full picture. His “friends” began to shed light on the situation. Why did they not tell us more before? For that, I do not have an answer. It became clear that Clint had kept many things from us. We had been trying to walk the fine line between helping him and allowing him to become an independent adult.
Once a child becomes an adult, the struggles go to a new level. Afterwards, this analogy came to me. It was like Clint was racing through life on a fast track. As his family, we were his pit crew. We could see things that needed to be fixed or repaired. Time and time again, we tried to offer assistance and guidance. We put out distress calls. But sadly, he would not long enough for the needed repairs.
I am learning to believe that we did the best we could with what we knew and understood at that time. Clint did the best he could with what he understood. If we could go back, would we do things differently? Sure, we would continue to try anything and everything. Do I know for a fact and for sure what would make a difference? I do not and I must stay with truth of the situation. I must try to look at the situation fairly.
His death seemed so unreal. My heart wanted to believe that Clint was away at treatment. I wanted that second chance. Many times young people make mistakes and make bad choices, but so often they get a chance to learn from their mistakes. They get to move past the troubles. We did not get the chance to do this with Clint, but now our family must find a way to do that for us and for his memory.
As the deep pain is easing, I no longer worry about the hows and the whys. Now, my heart is learning new ways to carry my love for Clint. I can still have my connection with him. I am finding a peaceful place in my heart for Clint. I no longer even think of the drugs, when I think of my Clint.
I am not a counselor and what I have to share may or may not help someone. I hope you can take what may help and leave the rest. The pain is the same, but the path to healing may take a different direction.
Some people believe our souls choose their path before we are even born. If this is true our children were very courageous. I suppose this will remain one of the mysteries of life.
Gentle Hugs,
Debra Reagan
http://www.clint-reagan.memory-of.com
Drug Addiction will not only ruin your body but it would also mess up your life.*~~
drug addiction is a worldwide problem and this is always deadly*::
My son, Derek, died in his apartment and was found December 1, 2010. He was 29 years old and was struggling with mental illness for almost 9 years and drug addiction on and off during that time. I took care of making sure his bills were paid, he had a roof over his head, and he had groceries. I saw him about once a week for lunch and grocery shopping. He called me often and I sometimes felt irritated that he called so much.
It’s still unreal that he’s gone and his sadness and loneliness and his tormenting thoughts and delusions over the last year fill me with great pain and I am tormented with how I could have better helped him.
He had been in the hospital and a treatment center for two months and I felt that he was safe during that time. He wanted out though and his grandfather and father supported his release on September 28.
Thank You Debra, your words could be my words. My son passed 5/3/10. I am at the begining of this unwanted journey and I am not fully accepting the reality. I am asking all the questions you note and do not understand how this disease took my son so quickly and why his “friends” did not speak up. I can’t know what I don’t know. I am screaming inside and my loss touches all aspects of my life. I have lots of love and support but it is not enough to still the pain in my chest or the upset in my stomach. The pain is physical, emotional and affects all my relationships. I am finding these weeks leading up to Christmas to be brutal. I want to sleep and wake up in January. I did the best that I could but it was not good enough. I have failed in the very best part of my life. I pray that God will help me forgive myself. I know that other parents who have lost a child have survived and I will too but every day is painful and I am exhausted. Alicia