Losing Him Before He Was Gone

   Have you ever had to grieve for someone who was still on this earth? Someone you are sitting next to physically? Painfully wishing they were who they used to be? Wishing they didn't chose their habit over their family? My family, and so many other families, have had to do this for a very long time. There is no other feeling like it. Looking back at pictures, going through the "what if's", the regrets and the precious memories. Knowing there is nothing you can do no matter how hard you try is such a feeling of despair.

   If you've ever dealt with addiction, in any form, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You stand by for the phone call to come at any time. Wondering if its the devastating news you "thought" you prepared yourself for. Wondering if the last time you talked to them was forever the last time. You find yourself driving, a song comes on and you remember exactly where you were with them. You see one of their friends in passing. You see how well they are doing, wishing so bad it was him. Flourishing. Living. Not addicted.

Then that day comes. The worst day of your life. I thought of that day often. Wondering how I would handle it. Wondering if it would different then the grief I had gone through over the years. The grief over losing the fun, spunky, insanely talented, amazing person he was to the dark demon of addiction. Losing my best friend.

It wasn't anything like I had expected. I thought I prepared myself. As awful as it sounds - I'm sure a lot of you can relate - I thought it would be easier to no longer have to worry where he was. What he was doing. If he had some where warm to sleep. If he was withdrawing. If he was safe. That day will forever be the worst day of my life.

My mom called me crying. I instantly knew exactly what she was going to say. Her pain will forever haunt me. She was saying she was sorry over and over again. I felt so helpless! I wanted to jump through the phone and hold her. I couldn't get in the car fast enough to get to her. I am so grateful for my bonus dad and my aunt for being by her side to hold her. My dad was 700 miles away. Thank god for his fiancé being with him to comfort him. His voicemail the next day sobbing, letting me know he was on his way to us.

I have not experienced a lot of loss in my life. No major immediate family member. I knew addiction would take Parker one day, but I never thought he would be the first major loss I would experience. I also thought life couldn't possibly go on without him. The world couldn't spin without those crystal blue eyes and gorgeous smile. Suddenly, any small worry or stress I have ever experienced didn't matter anymore. All I wanted was to hug him one last time. Hear his voice one more time. I wanted three million more pictures of him.

The loss before the loss never cushions the blow. It only makes it harder. It brings so many what if's and so much regret for the "lost" years you experienced. The small hope you held onto in your heart hoping they would overcome this demon, forever shattered in a split second of a knock on the door or a phone call.

Next time you see someone who is struggling through the addiction of someone they love, ask them if they are okay. Hug them. Let them know you are there. Chances are, they are already grieving someone who is still alive.

What We Leave Behind

WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND

I asked my husband for a word yesterday.  Something that describes this process of losing a loved one. While the words “brutal” and “guttural” come close, something is missing.

We went to see the movie “Glass,” and then we heard it.

He leaned over and said, “There’s your word.”

The one word that more closely describes what has happened in and to our family.

Cataclysmic – something bad or unwelcome, relating to or denoting a violent natural event.  

Losing a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew and a friend. This has been cataclysmic, a tornado of sorts.

What we leave behind after death tells a story.

He left behind nothing of value.  I believe his room was stripped by vultures, looking for things to sell. He collected hats, many of them expensive name brands. Not one hat was left in the room. He loved Buckle jeans, cool shirts and shoes.  All the new stuff he had the month before, gone.  His XBOX and TV were gone.  I’m sure he pawned anything he could to feed his habit.  The room itself looked like a hazmat experiment gone wrong, with plates of food, half full glasses of what the hell is that. 

This is how he lived, the kid that color coded his closet and had a bin for everything growing up. Things marked and in their rightful place.

One thing stood out.  A binder with his rehab papers from Canyon View, when we locked him down at the age of 17.  The binder was out, like he had been going through it.  This was comforting in an odd way. It told me he knew he needed help. I found a folder with his drawings. Things that would only mean something to his family. 

I’m grateful his roommate found the crucifix necklace he wore around his neck.  This was in honor of a friend he lost at a young age. Most days I wear it around my own neck for comfort.

I’ve had to be blunt with bill collectors.  They want me to prove he is dead.  I copy the death certificate and send it to them on their request.  My health insurance was the only company that googled his name, while I was on the phone with them, saw his obituary and stated that’s all they needed.  I was so grateful for that.

 I used these words with a bill collector who called me to check on the “estate.” Estate?

“He left no estate.  He died with the clothes on his back, and a needle in his arm.  Does that answer your question?” Direct, not rude, just emotionally spent from explaining. The paperwork involved in death is overwhelming and each week brings something new.

What he did leave behind, while there is cataclysmic pain; love, laughter, hope, and joy insert themselves into forgotten memories and unexpected stories. 

Stories of laughter, how he made people feel, funny things he did. He wasn’t perfect by any means. The stories, pictures and videos that have been shared with me privately have been hysterical and many cringe worthy. (Oh dear!)

 This young man was a riot, naughty, with a huge heart.  His blue eyes, sparkling with mischief. 

I can tell the truth and say “this kid could be a royal pain in the ass!” Through that honesty I feel the joy of being his mother.

  I’m grateful for conversations of hope, hugs shared, words of gratitude and I love you said every time we talked. We were closer than most moms and sons, we were each other’s thermometer, checking in with each other often. 

He left this earth with no worldly possessions.  What he did leave behind, is a family that will share his story, love and miss him with all of our hearts.  

Stacey Hedrick

 Mother of Parker James Kelly 02/20/1996 - 11/112018.

#PJKALLDAY

#DONTSTOPBELIEVING

 “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” (Maya Angelou / Carl W. Buehner)

Signs: Where are you?

Through the years I have followed many people on social media that have suffered loss. Friends, family and people I do not know personally. I love seeing the posts that shows “signs” of their lost loved ones. Heart rocks, feathers and even encounters with people that were meant to be. After losing parker, I had a few people tell me “He will show you he’s still here, but don’t look for it. They will appear when you least expect it.” Against the advice, I have longed and looked for those signs, almost jealous of those who experienced them or come across them. Always searching the clouds. Looking at the ground searching for that penny or rock. Only to continually be disappointed.

Then it happened.

Two years ago my cousin let me borrow a book called “The Wizard’s Legacy” by Craig Karges. I was so excited to read it. For whatever reason, I started the first couple of pages then completely forgot about it and put it in my pile of books in my living room. Fast forward two years, she posts about how great this book is on her Instagram dedicated to books and I remember I still have it. I let her know that I’ll hurry and read it and bring it back to her.

I begin, again, a few pages of this book on a Thursday night and decide to bring it to work the next day. I’m reading along this incredible story and BAM. There it is. The sign I had been longing for smack dab in the middle of a random book. It reads:

“Love is action, not words. Love isn’t expressed in shouts of anger or violence or arguments. Love happens when you hold your beloved’s hand and watch the sunset, or when you pet your dog, or sometimes when you just look at each other and let your hearts speak what the lips cannot. Keeping a loved one’s memory alive in your heart after they’ve passed away is perhaps the greatest love of all.”

That last line hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been having some doubt about sharing Parker’s story. Doubt that I was doing the right thing by being so open and raw with it all. Doubts about my ability to feel. So here I am in the middle of the class I supervise, shedding some tears in the back. I start getting the chills. Good chills. The same comforting chills I have felt in moments of peace. Chills I now realize are most likely Parker being near me or hugging me, showing me he is always there.

I continue to read, more eager than ever to read every single word in this book. One sentence later it says this:

“Always show your love Craig, Don’t wait until it’s too late. Let the people you love know how you feel. Be kind and considerate to everybody. Love your little brother even though he drives you crazy--- especially when he drives you crazy. Do this and you’ll find God. “ His eyes twinkled. “ In fact you’ll realize that you never lost him.”

Then it hits me. Why am I searching for all these signs when I literally know for a fact (especially at this moment) that Parker is always there. He is everywhere. He is always in my heart. He is in every single song I listen to. He is in my kids and the incredible things they say on a daily basis. He is in this book! A book that may have not pertained to my life two years ago if I had I read it. In that moment I was supposed to be reading that book.

If you haven’t already guessed I finished the book by the end of the day. The last few pages had even more words I needed to read. They go as follows:

“By now you’ve learned the meaning of loss; you’ve learned that nothing is forever, that life is a temporary, ephemeral thing; nothing more than sandcastles on the beach. All we have are brief moments on the shore before the tide comes in and washes us away. The name of that tide is Time; and the ocean is called Eternity. But do not think for a moment that Death is the end of life---far from it. Death transforms us into the pure energy of Life Itself, the energy that is Light and Vitality; the Light that allows your physical eyes to see; the Light that allows your mind to think: the light that allows your spirit to soar above the clouds! Think of death as a stepping stone into a better-lit room.”

A paragraph later it reads:

“Your brother Bill, sadly, is destined to have a short but intense life. A flame that burns so intently as his cannot burn long. However, he’ll positively touch a great many people before he goes.”

All that I had just read rang so true to me. Parker was such a bright light to this world. He came here to touch the lives of everyone around him. He excelled in everything that he did. He made everyone, even people who didn’t know him, smile. Even through his dark addiction, he continued all of those things.

The last paragraph in this section reads:

“Love doesn’t end with death, it only moves to a higher level. By now you’ve lost many loved ones, but keep this in mind at all times: We’re not gone, none of us. Those who loved you in life are still with you, watching your show from the balcony and cheering you on. Listen for us in the rustle of the leaves in autumn; watch for us in the dance of the dust mites in a sunbeam in your den. Keep us in your heart and in your mind.”

Keeping his memory alive, even the darkest parts, can change someone’s life. He changed so many while he was still with us, I have no doubt that in his death it was just another stepping stone into a brighter lit room full of peace, love and joy for him to continue to touch lives. The inspiration, affirmation and sometimes small signs I have received, show me I do not need to look for him, he is always here.

#PJKAllDay #DontStopBelieving

Caverns of Grief

There is an awkwardness with comes with grief. People want to comfort with words. Example: you will find a new normal, he is in a better place, the worry is gone, he is at peace now, God has him. All of these words true and their intent is to comfort. Caverns that can't be filled with words.

Most of us don’t know how to comfort others.  When compassion turns to empathy, through experience, that’s where the true connection is. I wouldn’t wish this experience on my worst enemy. I don’t blame others for not knowing what to say.  To many times I have been without comforting words.

A page on FB, posts meaningful and beautiful quotes. It is uplifting and focuses on the positive.  The quote this morning was this:

“Grief, I’ve learned is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in in the corners of eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest.  Grief is just love with no place to go.” (Jamie Anderson)

Before, I would have shed some tears over these beautiful words.  They are meant to uplift, put a positive spin on grief.  I don’t know the grief she experienced to write those words, but for me they don’t work.  Doesn’t make me right or her wrong. Love is why we grieve, why we mourn so heavily after losing a loved one.  Love has a place to go, I take him with me everywhere, carried in the anchor necklace I wear around my neck.

Let’s be honest. There is nothing positive about grief.  Losing my son has brought me to my knees.  My chest isn’t hollow.  It is filled with pressure, a scream that if ever released, will echo through every corner, until my voice is gone. The anxiety, the internal shaking. This physical separation, to high of a price to pay. Sixty days without him. The worry is gone, replaced with a cavern so deep, the pressure keeps building.

The truth is, grief drains you. It takes every cell in your body and turns it red hot. Shaking from the inside out, sometimes its visible, other times you can feel it pulse. The pain waits for you as you shop for groceries, clean the house, work, meet a friend for lunch. Then it hits. You go back to day one after being told that a piece of your heart died on a bathroom floor, alone.  His only company, a needle in his arm.   

I push it down when I am at work or in a public setting. I have turned into a liar, telling others I am OK. At times, I am frozen, no feelings at all. 

I’m expected to get back out there, move on, find my new normal, smile, fake it ‘til I make it. Life goes on. People I love, I want to be fully engaged with.  I feel myself withdrawing, pushing down, not wanting to “bring others down.” I don't sleep much, I wake often in tears.

I don’t blame friends for avoiding me, in the store or anywhere else.  What the hell do you say to a barely, upright mother? Do my eyes tell the truth, of how this thread I’m holding on to, is close to breaking?

 Everyone tells me I am strong, I know the truth. They don’t hear the scream and feel the pressure because I hide it.  I’m broken glass, shattered in a million pieces. How those pieces go back together, only time will tell. I'm exhausted trying to make them fit like they use to. 

Being seen by others, not avoided, is so very appreciated.  Those that reach out and make a point to say hello, give me a sense of normalcy for a few minutes and strengthens the thread. 

Grief. I am looking forward to the day it doesn’t consume me. Other mothers in this club we never willingly joined, teach me to stay upright, show me this is survivable. I just need to figure out how.

Stacey Hedrick

 Mother of Parker James Kelly 2/20/1996 – 11/11/2018

#PJKALLDAY

#DONTSTOPBELIEVING

Somebody's Someone: Judgement

  Addiction. A word my family has been "dealing" with for a long time. This word carries a lot of emotions. Hurt, disappointment, fear, love, grief and judgement. As most of you know my mom and I have been very open about Parker's addiction. At times when speaking face to face with a few people, I received pretty harsh judgement. While that judgement never really affected me deep down, it wasn't about me. It was about my little brother.

   So many are quick to jump and say/think (I only know because I've done this in the past) "I wonder what happened to them to make them use?" What trauma did they endure?" "What did those parents do wrong?" While for some these questions could be answered, a lot of addicts come from relatively normal families and lives. Their back stories aren't always full of darkness and trauma. Addiction doesn't discriminate. 

   The best, yes I said BEST, part about an addict is that they are just like you. They are somebody's son, daughter, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, grandson, granddaughter, mom dad, husband, wife and so on. Although their addictions lead them down dark and tumultuous roads of excuses, anger, lying, crime and pain (and so much more), they are still a person. A human being. 

   Through the years of going through the waves and ripples that addiction causes, I have found my own personal judgement soften. When I see someone begging on a corner I wonder about their story. Not in judgement but in empathy for the family that so longs to have them back. Now that I have my own kids I often picture them as a child, knowing they were once (and still are) the light of someone's world. They are somebody's someone.

   My brother, Parker, was and still is so many peoples someone. I have heard from a lot of people through tears and pain how he changed their lives. Even through his fight against his demons, he was still trying to help those around him. Though he is gone from this earth, I will make sure his story is heard to continue to change lives. Even if its only one person.

There have been a few people that have said to me, "I wish I knew the Parker you knew." I hope through this blog my mom and I show you exactly who he is. The dark and the amazing things about him. He was hilarious. He was kind. He was a charming ladies man. He was stubborn. Most importantly he was my little brother. My mothers son. My babies uncle. My aunts and uncles nephew. My grandparents grandson. He was a friend to so many. He was and still is the light in all of this darkness.  

I challenge you the next time you find yourself in harsh judgement of an addict, homeless person or even someone less fortunate of yourself, to soften your judgement. You don't always know their story or where they came from. They could've grown up exactly like you and chose a different path. Find empathy in your heart for the family that misses them. The person they were before the addiction. The person they were forced to morn while they were still alive. The person they want back so badly.  Always, ALWAYS remember, they are somebody's someone.

Somebody's Someone by Daphne Willis

Bright light on the corner of a dark street
Just a cardboard sign and a can in between some dirty bare feet
Eyes that I can't bring myself to meet

I would spare a twenty if I thought
you'd be using it to get what you need

Ooooo
I'm just another cold shoulder

Somebody's brother
Somebody's son
Somebody's mother father
Somebody's someone
Somebody's missin you
Wherever you came from
And wherever you go
I hope you know
You're somebody's someone

Pick up the phone who's it gonna be this time
It's the sound of your voice but it ain't really you on the line
When ya gonna come out on the other side
It's on you cause you know there
ain't nothin we can do no matter how we try

Oooooo
I'm just another cold shoulder

I may lose you time and time again
But I'll be there till the end

You're my only brother
You're my mother's son
I'm still your sister
You're somebody's someone
We're all still missin' you
Back where you came from
Wherever you go I hope you know
You're somebody's someone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGgN9vMPUn8