4 years

 4 years on Friday. 

4 of the longest and shortest years of my life. Often spent feeling numb. Angry sometimes. Peaceful. The cycle is infinite.

This week has been full of ups and downs. The incredible memories only I will ever have of him. The moments of darkness bringing me back down to the reality of him being gone. Reminiscing about the songs we would blast in the car and him singing along with me. The moments of uncontrollable laughter. The trauma of the way he died. Such a roller coaster that I never wanted to ride.

I feel like a lot of the time I shock people with my openness toward talking about Parker. They will see my tattoos or my bracelet and ask me who its for. I immediately tell them “Oh that’s for my little brother. He passed away at 22 from heroine overdose”. I don’t tell them for shock factor, I tell then out of complete transparency. Why sugar coat it? I always have the hope that they can relate and I can make them feel human. We all know by now that addiction doesn’t discriminate. 

I was listening to a podcast today about a woman who’s brother went missing and they never found him. Later, it aided her in helping drive the effort to find a woman who went missing and they ended up finding her alive. She said something so powerful. She said “My whole life prepared me to save her’. I felt like I needed to hear that. My whole life growing up in a family with active addiction prepared me to save myself. To talk openly to other people. To handle the darkness rather than succumb to it. 

Looking back reading this blog this passed Sunday, I do not remember writing a single word of any of my entries. I have blocked out so much from the past few years as a defense mechanism to move forward with my life. The hardest part is moving forward. Still having to be a mom, wife, daughter, employee can be exhausting some days when you just want to crawl into a hole and cry.

As dark as grief is, it also brings so much in life to light. I started taking the long way home. I live more freely without worrying about the little things that used to drive me insane. It has driven me to take chances which have lead me and my husband down an incredible path to get to where we are financially. It has helped me slow down and realize who stands by me and who is against me. Weeding out chaotic people in my life that only bring toxicity. Being closer to my family and having more open conversations. Navigating my belief system and building a strong foundation off of my experiences the last 4 years. A lot these things I could have never realized without my amazing husband by my side acting as my sit in therapist. He takes the emotions out of things for me and gives me the best perspective.

As I navigate this week leading up to that dreaded day, I can’t help but feel extreme gratitude to everyone who has been texting me and making sure I am doing okay. That’s not just this week, that is all the time. I am so grateful for everyone that Parker ever helped or hung out with in his life who reach out to me often and tell me when they dreamed of him or heard a song on the radio that reminded them of him. I have such fond memories of everyone who has ever told me that Parker changed his their lives. 

The sadness will never go away and neither will the tears. The happy memories will forever be imbedded in the core of my being. The passed time never stops. The trauma may never heal. The years are flying by and the peace will forever increase. 

I miss you daily little bro. What i would do for one more hug. One more karaoke sesh. One more moment with you. 

-Allie

#PJKALLDAY #DontStopBelieving

SORROW SHARED

I have written several things over the last few months and haven’t shared them.  I haven’t wanted to burden others.

The problem with not sharing is this; thoughts get distorted and I don’t realize it.  I start spinning down the cavern of grief and suddenly recognize, I am in trouble. I can’t carry this alone and I was never meant to. 

The last 4 days have been brutal. Grief has hit hard, along with the blues. I am in a danger zone that others won’t understand until they join this journey.  I don’t want that for anyone.

My thoughts are not my own. They have been taken over by the mother inside of me, the one that has been brought to her knees, seeking relief and nothing seems to help.  Reading books on grief, knowing I am not alone, helps for a time. I joined a FB page of others that have lost family members to drugs.  At first it was a relief to talk to mothers/fathers that understood; it soon turned into a deep well of sadness, that if I stay there, will drown me.  Protecting my mental energy is necessary. I feel selfish. 

I finally spoke my thoughts out loud to family.  Thoughts left unspoken, grow, twist, take over and if heeded, more grief waits for those around me. There’s an unspoken promise that this pain will end. THIS is the lie you have to recognize; this isn't a solution. Others are suffering right along side of me. Watching my kids suffer is brutal.  

 These are the words I said out loud, “I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

I want my son. I want his hug, his smile, his laugh, his brilliant blue eyes to look into mine.  I even miss him flipping people off.  He excelled at that. I want to hear his voice saying, “Mama, get out of the car and give me a real hug!”  I want to make him a homemade KFC potato bowl.  The last time I made them and had him over, he was in withdrawal and his conversations were all over the place.  He ate very little and left quickly when his buddy showed up to get him. If there is food in heaven, this is what he is eating. 

I thought I knew heartache during that time.  The runaway train was heading for our family and nothing we did stopped it.

 I know it hurts my family to hear these words.  Are they not enough?  Family being enough has nothing to do with it. I just want this cavern of pain, that is bottomless, to stop. 

It has been 427 days today.  How is it possible to live without my son for that long?  Moving is all I can do. It is taking every bit of strength I have.

In the book called “Finding Meaning, the Sixth Stage of Grief,” by David Kessler, he writes:

“We need a sense of community when we are in mourning. We were not meant to be islands of grief. The reality is, we heal as a tribe. There is no greater gift you give someone in grief than to ask them about their loved one, then truly listen. When we see our sorrow in the eyes of another, we know our grief has meaning. We get a glimpse, maybe for the first time since the loss, that we will survive, and a future is possible.”

I am choosing to lean on my tribe.  I know from experience, this pain will lessen again, for a time. My emotions will freeze and I will welcome it; embrace the temporary escape.

The words, “we heal as a tribe” ring true. I needed that support so much in the beginning stages of this journey I didn’t choose.  I need it now, more than ever.  My joy in life comes from being the caretaker and giver; being on the receiving end is humbling.  To those in my tribe that give so much to me, you know who you are; thank you will never be enough. 

Stacey Hedrick, Mother of Parker James Kelly

02/20/1996-11/11/2018

#PJKALLDAY

#DONTSTOPBELIEVING

The Grieving Sibling

Does anybody see her? She's crying alone in the dark of the night. Hiding her silent sobs, wiping the warm tears from her face. She is overwhelmed. Along with her eternally running checklist that accumulates with life, motherhood and marriage, she's grieving. Grieving someone whom she spent 22.5 out of 28 years of her life with. Her most vivid memories include him. He is intertwined in every aspect of her being. Though he is her little brother, he taught and influenced her in so many ways. He showed her how to treat others. How to always hide behind that beaming smile, whether you were dealing with demons or not. He has shown her how to make somebody's day, even if you are consumed with your own darkness. Her darkness is different from his. Hers is made of fear, false strength and heartache. All she ever wanted was to be a big sister. Her most vivid early memory was anxiously awaiting his arrival and holding him when he came home from the hospital. She remembers almost losing him when he was 18 months old, staying with a family friend while he was in Primary Children's Hospital. Crashing together in the street and crying together over road rash. Him sitting with her over every broken heart, every bad choice. A billion never ending memories she is so grateful for.

When he left his earth, a piece of her went with him. A piece that can never again be filled or replaced. No patch will ever be strong enough to hold for the pain would shatter it into a thousand pieces. The dark memories forever ingrained in her mind. His bruised hands and cold, hard body. Memories of shock anger and complete debilitation. 

I still continue to smile. To find peace in the daily reminders of him. I feel him every day. He continues to give me small glimpses of the peace he is experiencing away from the weight of the world. Free from the all consuming demon named Addiction. If we stop believing that all of this is somehow going to be okay, we will forget to live. There is so much to live for, so much more to learn before our time here is through. What a wonderful day it will be when he meets us all at the gates, first in line with that warm, enveloping hug. When it all gets to heavy, we can walk hand in hand together as family and friends holding each other up, speaking his name and telling his story. 

#PJKALLDAY #DONTSTOPBELIEVING #DONTSTOPLIVING

BROKEN ARROWS

There is grief and then there is the other side of grief you don’t show others.  It envelopes you, takes your voice, removes you from those around you.  You hear them speaking, trying to reach you and you aren’t able to answer.  It whispers lies, makes you unsure of yourself, brings guilt in buckets, bittersweet memories, the what if’s and regrets so deep. Sleeping is impossible.  Your heart pounds, your breathing shallow.

There comes a point you have to acknowledge you are in trouble.  If you stay there, you get shackled in the darkness. If you can’t break free, you succumb.  Finding a few words with the right people, lets it out a little at a time.  I am blessed with angels; Earth and Heavenly ones. You know who you are. Thank you for holding me up.

I feel alone, (I know I am not),worn out and betrayed in a strange way.  All of my emotions are exaggerated and amplified. I am afraid to open my mouth.  I want to yell, “Why? Why, my son?” until my throat is bloody from screaming.  I want to beat my hands against the wall and break every bone, so I can point to my fingers and say “this is what hurts!” Red, hot anger, complete rage, consumes me in different parts of the day.

The last few months I have been trying to prove to those around me, that I’m still me.  I’m tired of feeling like a shadow of the bubbly girl I once was. I didn’t realize I had been, until this week.  As I fell further down the rabbit hole of grief it became apparent; I have been running, instead of facing this pain.

 I was cocooned in a safe place.  Denial.  He will walk in the door any minute and then mine and Allie’s birthdays.  They came and he never walked in the door.

Being wrapped in that safe place, surrounded by heavenly angels holding you, absorbing the pain, until you are strong enough, once again to feel, is such a gift. The extra strength flows and you know once again, you can stand.  Then it slowly recedes and you know it’s your turn to carry it, feel it, somehow grow in spite of it, as you face the worse nightmare of your life.  He’s not coming home. 

C.S. Lewis said this about grief.  “I think I am beginning to understand why grief feels like suspense. It comes from the frustration of so many impulses that have been habitual. Thought after thought, feeling after feeling. Had (Parker) for their object. Now the target is gone. I keep on through habit, fitting the arrow to the string; then I remember and have to lay down the bow. So many roads lead to (Parker). I set out on one of them. But now there’s an impassable frontier post across it. So many roads once, now so many cul-de-sacs.”

The arrow breaks with” what ifs.” I picture him counseling others. He would share his story and tell them how he beat this; his words would be powerful and ring true. His leadership abilities eventually helping him to lead strong. He was loved by many and missed by many more.

This is where I want my voice to matter.   I’m working so hard to find my “aim” again. Speaking the truth is necessary and incredibly draining. If speaking helps one family, one person to make a change, save one life, change the heart of an addict, it will be worth every ounce of emotional and physical energy it takes. 

Thank you for my angels, God.  I can’t do this alone.

#PJKALLDAY

#DONTSTOPBELIEVING

#ADDICTIONAWARENESS

Half a year.

181 days, 4,344 hours, 260,640 minutes, 1,563,8400 seconds. Six months without you.

I often wonder where you would be if you were still here. Would you be clean? Would you be happy? How many more hugs would I have gotten from you? How many more times would I have gotten to see your smile in person, instead of in pictures?

And then I remember, you are clean. You are happy. I feel you every single day. I can't forget your smile. Its constantly on my subconscious. Reminding me to live. Reminding me to breath. Even if I have to take the day hour by hour or minute by minute, you always help me through. 

The last six months have felt like the longest and shortest months of my life. I feel like we just lost you yesterday yet looking back at all that life has brought since, it feels like a lifetime ago. Life has completely changed. Grief has made me a different person than I was before. It has made me more grateful, less stressed, more patient and grateful for everyday I have on this earth. It has also made me a wreck most days, numb to things I should be feeling, angry and doubting everything I have every believed. 

I miss you every single second of every single day. Your legacy and story are still inspiring so many. I love you Parker, fly high and help me through this day.

#PJKAllDay #DontStopBelieving 

Dreams

Grief comes in the form of so many emotions. I don’t like calling them the “stages” of grief because some days you can experience every single one of them only to start back over at “stage” one the next day. It’s a roller coaster that never seems to have a rhyme or reason, with no end in sight from the treacherous hills and painful coils of despair.

For a few weeks after Parker’s memorial services, I experiences a lot of numbness which goes hand in hand with denial. Denial that anything that had just happened was real. That it was all just a sick joke yet knowing one thousand percent it was indeed real. It was a defense mechanism developed to protect myself from believing that the pain wasn’t real. I was basically an emotionless zombie walking around yelling at everyone just to try and feel something.

For a month or so, I have again been experiencing some of the emotions surrounding the numbness. The physical pain has lessened making it easier to get through the day. The emotional pain is still there but has been blocked out by this “numb” feeling for a few weeks. I can listen to the songs I couldn't before showing me that I’m slowly becoming more desensitized to the fact that he is gone. My heart has been searching for peace and comfort through the numbness. I have had several experiences that have given me confirmation he is at peace. Those experiences gave me exactly what I needed given the emotional moment I was in at the time but I’ve been searching for something more. Something tangible as my mom has put it.

A few weeks ago, I had two dreams about Parker. I have only had one about him since he passed away and it was only a glimpse of him in a picture in my dream. The first dream I had he was sitting next to me building me a vape. Weird I know, but he knew a lot about them and loved showing them off to me. We were sitting there with my mom talking about random things. I woke up scratching my head but I was so happy I saw him for a few seconds in my dream. The next night though was completely different. I had a dream that I was sitting with my whole family around a long table eating dinner and laughing. I look up and like in a movie where its all slow motion, he is sitting directly across from me at the other end. He is smiling. Not just smiling at the conversation going on around us, he is smiling at me. That big goofy smile that I miss so much. He is surrounded in light and looks exactly as he did when he was first out of rehab and clean. I could feel him. I could feel the warmth of his smile. The love. The peace that enveloped him. That feeling of comfort and peace was tangible like I could reach out and keep a piece of it with me. I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks knowing with all my heart he was there. There to visit me and give me the comfort I have been so longing for. The image of him has been engraved in my mind, carrying me through some hard moments.

That experience slowly started bringing back out the numbness and has transitioned into a little bit of peace. Peace knowing he is okay. He is safe. He is happy. Demon free. Drug free. Addiction free. He is in his purest form. He is with family and friends he has lost. He is continuing his work he was always meant for. He was always going to change the world, now he just has to do it in a different way and come through to all of us. None of these things change the fact that I miss him with every beat of my heart every single day. They just make it a little easier to get through this journey called life and seeing him again in all his glory someday. I love you little brother.

#PJKAllDay #DontStopBelieving

Honeymoon and Green Orbs

Our Honeymoon to Cancun was everything we had hoped for. We booked an all-inclusive resort for 7 days and had friends there for the first 4 days. We had a blast with them and owe them big for helping us plan a great trip.   Thank you, Paula and Steve! 

The resort we stayed at was incredibly beautiful.  The sunrise and sunsets were breathtaking.  I couldn't wait to get out of bed each morning and see the sun hit the ocean. We had a balcony with a gorgeous ocean view and had many photo opportunities.

Day 2, sunrise, we both noticed a green orb on our screens.  Some people believe this signifies a spirit of someone that has passed on.  Neither of us said a word as we took video and more pictures.  I'm not sure who asked the other first, if we were seeing the same thing.  My emotions were right on the surface.  I kept saying "Can you believe this?" I had to keep wiping the tears and I could see the emotion he was feeling.  

Can you imagine being the one that has to hold this grieving mother every night? I would not have made it this far without this man. He has brought so much joy to my life. His arms around me every night, encouraging me to let it out, a safe haven.  He's the love of my life. Sharing this time with him was incredible, something to always be cherished. 

Each of us caught the orb in videos and photos.  It wasn't until we got home and cast our photos on the TV, that showed how big this gift truly was. So many photos shot at different times and different days, that showed the green orb clearly. 

What a blessing this turned out to be.  You see, I've carried this guilt over my divorce 3 years ago.  One of my worst memories during this time, was moving out.  Parker came home sick from work. He stood there in disbelief and cried in the kitchen. It wasn’t a surprise; he knew I had been making plans to get what little I took with me. He wouldn't let me comfort him. It broke my heart.  I knew by this time he was into something "dark." I didn't know at the time that it was heroin.  I explained to him over and over, I wasn't leaving him. I was still his mom. 

During this time, camps were being chosen.  Enemies springing up where I least expected it. I never expected or wanted my kids to have to choose between their parents.  Why couldn't they have us both? It was heartbreaking for all of us. 

Let's be clear, I'm not casting blame or pointing fingers.  This was tough time.  I never in 30 years had used the word divorce.  To be the one that left and the story being twisted felt devastating. I tried so hard to be overly fair, that I took the majority of the debt and blame.  They say there are two sides to every story and then there's the truth.  The truth is this.  We were broken as a couple.  It took us both to break it. 

Having this orb appear over and over in Cancun filled me with peace. It took this ache in my heart and soothed it for a time.  I felt him and his love for me, the love we always had, and closeness we shared.  The message I kept feeling was this, "Mom, I'm OK, I want you to be happy."  

The 2nd day I was there, I stood in the Ocean and just let the tears flow.  How can I be happy and so damn sad at the same time? One afternoon I had some time to sit on the balcony. Kirk was taking a nap and I couldn't relax so I listened to my old Ipod with songs I hadn't heard for years.  So many we use to sing together with Allie in the car. I let the sadness wash over me, let the tears come and just grieved.  My heart hurt so much with missing him.  Missing his voice, his antics, even his wild animal noises.  He use to get sent to his room for noises when my ears couldn't take it anymore. Case in point,  "Parker you are a boy, not whale.  Take that noise out of here." He would take it and perfect the noise in his room...with the door open.  

This picture is the last one I have of all four of my kids together.  You can see the light he has lost in his brilliant blue eyes.  I was so happy to have them together after the pain and separation of the divorce, I kept trying to look past it.  We celebrated my birthday and had so many laughs. I can look back on this day and feel joy, in spite of the darkness that was slowly taking him from us.

The days have passed and it has been 147 days since he left us.  How is this possible? 

I love that he made his presence known on our Honeymoon. I am so grateful that everyday, I get to find him in the small things, memories, laughs, songs and green orbs that show up in vivid color on pictures.  Thank you God, for not only loaning me this character for a short time, thank you for letting him visit us, give his approval and feel that incredible spirit.  I love you Parker.   

Stacey Hedrick
Mother of Parker Kelly 02//20/1996 - 11/11/2018