It’s been sixteen months now since I buried my son, Ryan, due to a heroin overdose. As I move on in life, I still find myself looking back and asking how things went so wrong. Like so many other parents who have walked in my shoes, we all say the same thing after burying our beloved child, “I wish I knew than what I know now” and “Why didn’t I speak up before?” I’m sure I will take these regrets to my grave.

I have three children—twin sons, Ryan and Matthew, and a daughter, Katie, who is two years younger than the boys. I have been married to the same man, Tim, since 1981. It’s not a happy marriage, by any means, but we are still here.

I would consider our lives, until 2007, pretty good. I truly loved life. The only real tragedy was that our first son, EJ, was stillborn in 1983. Back then, a stillbirth child was whisked away from the mother almost immediately. I never got to say hello before I had to say goodbye. I still carry that sadness with me today.

I gave birth to Ryan and Matt in 1985 and then to Katie in 1987. We lived in the suburbs, in small town Pasadena, Maryland. We weren’t rich by any means, but we had a great life and were very happy. The kids thrived. They were all very active in school, sports, and social events. All five of us had many friends in the community. We also spent a lot of time with Tim’s and my family, who we were extremely close to. In my opinion, we had it all, and I couldn’t have been happier.

As the kids grew older, they seemed to remain happy-go-lucky. They were easy to raise and never got in to any real trouble. They also seemed to find their own niche. Ryan was the athlete, Matt played music, and Katie found creativity in experimenting with makeup and hairstyling. Their personalities defined who they were. Ryan was the very outspoken, funny guy. Matt was the quiet, polite, people pleaser, and Katie was a momma’s girl with attitude. Ryan and Katie were a lot like Tim, and Matt was a lot like me. Good or bad, filtered or not, I loved that they were each their own person.

I just wonder how everything I thought was so perfect could go so wrong?

As they approached their late teens, my only advice to them was, “You don’t have to be the best, but you do the best you can and always live life with no regrets.”

It turned out regrets is the one word that haunts everyone in the family so deeply.

During their final years in high school, Ryan pretty much stayed focused on his running, cross-country, and track and field. Katie spent most of her time with cheerleading and student government. Matt, our quiet and “perfect” son, became quite the rebel. He started smoking pot and drinking. I found out years later, there were also other drugs he was doing. He wasn’t getting in trouble at school or with the law, but he was turning into a party boy. Tim’s opinion and my opinion on how to handle Matt were polar opposite. Tim thought it was just a phase he was going through, and his punishment should have been minimal—grounded for a weekend but okay to have friends over. I thought we needed to be much stricter—grounded for two weeks, no car, no friends over. Tim ended up getting his way because I don’t like controversy. It was much easier for me to give in without a fight even though my head was saying, “This is wrong.” Still, I chose to remain silent. I regret it.

Over the next few years, I’m ashamed to say, there were several underage drinking parties at my house. The first one was Ryan and Matt’s senior prom night. I overheard some of their friends talking about going to an after-prom party at another friend’s house in Bowie, Maryland (about thirty minutes away from our house). The child’s father was going to be out of town. No parents would be supervising the party. I was very upset and confronted Ryan and Matt about it. They didn’t deny anything but simply told me I couldn’t stop them from going. According to them, they were eighteen years old and could do whatever they wanted.

Tim thought we should just let them have a small party at our house after prom instead. This way, they wouldn’t drink and drive, and we could supervise them. We would not supply any alcohol, but we’d provide a safe environment for them to have fun. The voice in my head was saying, “Oh my god, are you

Скачать книгу