Carole

"When I think of a love relationship, I am not thinking of anything romantic. I marvel at my self-control as I have kept aloof, apart and detached. Love has crowded my life, wrapped itself around me like a shroud that protects a dead body. Because a part of me is dead, I write here about my love for someone. A love so torn apart and broken that it brings tears to my eyes at the thought. Within me lies a loss no mother should suffer: the death of a child. This love is for my son who died at the age of thirty-five and which continues to figure hugely in my life in all kinds of ways. 

He, Jonathan was my first-born lovely child, until his death as a young adult, which separated us. His birth began my journey into motherhood. His father and I were estranged by the time of his birth. We were not reconciled before his father died tragically in an accident; at the time my little Jonathan was only eleven days old. So, the love I had for my son deepened and strengthened in regrets and silent grief. 

As Jonathan grew strong and clever, our love flourished. It grew and encompassed a stepfather and stepbrother and sisters. However, later his grief, in the shape of addiction, dogged all our lives and tested our love. By the age of thirty-one Jonathan was heavily addicted to heroin and cocaine, and although he battled hard to free himself from the grip of them, he finally lost his battle. At the age of only thirty-five, he died of a cocaine overdose one summer’s night. 

Others might imagine my story of love would end there. It is a love that witnessed the degradation of his drug use and our battle with the system, too woefully ill-equipped then, to deal with his sickness. My love for him is as strong as ever now. When it felt as if all was lost to me and even counselling could not ease the pain of my loss, I found that the strength of my love caused me to act. I contacted a local charity and with their help set up a sponsored walk to help other addicted people. 

As I set out on the walk, I had tears again at the loss of a loved, beautiful and precious person. There were times when I felt I could no longer exist without him and the walk brought it all into focus. It took place on the date of his birthday, I had to walk every one of the thirteen miles to shake myself into going on living. Every mile involved a memory. I am reminded now as I write, of the horror of watching him trace a line of heroine along a piece of kitchen foil with a lighter held underneath. The gut-wrenching horror I felt, watching him suck the poison into his lungs from the vapor created. 

I watched as the poison wrecked his mental capacity and made him deranged. He was my very much-loved son and from where I stood there was nothing I could do. You may think I should have ranted and raged. I know that would have been in vain as he was not in a mental place to accept anything other than the pure love I had; of my just being there with him at that time, on that journey. 

I wonder if he realised how seeing him do this twisted my guts and overloaded me with sadness in my heart. Probably not. He wasn’t in his right mind. I experienced many hair-raising scenes. Once he chased someone who was probably a dealer but could have likely been a friend, with one of my kitchen knives. The lad called the police. I will never forget the look of recrimination I received from one of the attending police officers. It sent me into the murky realms of shame, from which I am still trying to emerge. Addiction pulls out all the love we have and more, even the love that we don’t know we have. Later when Jonathan was sent to prison for entering someone’s property in a drunken and drug induced fog, I could only show my love in ways such as weekly letters and a visit here and there. It all felt a sham-I was breaking inside and desperately trying to find the right tools to deal with his problems. 

I was turned inside out, my love for him was not a solution. It was him, the addict who needed to find the solutions to his problems, but I was blinded to that at the time. My love drove me to Families Anonymous which is an organisation for helping families cope with addictive relatives. The weekly meetings I attended kept me semi-sane and I developed a tougher stance on my son’s behaviour implementing tough love. However much he begged I no longer made fund’s available and the crisis that led him to prison was probably the result. 

It hurt when a fellow member at Jonathan’s funeral said that I hadn’t enabled him. I believe my love stopped me doing that - stopped me assisting his addiction. I didn’t buy the drugs that killed him, instead my love encouraged him to stand on his own two feet but love still has a way of reminding me perhaps I could have done more? My love will never be still. I twist and writhe with guilt and often feel deep grief. I believe I loved my son, I did what I could and had to do. 

My story of the journey with my very sick son is not complete without mentioning the fine work the Matthew Project did for Jonathan and I. At a crisis point when one day my son wound up in the police cells, a Christian man named Randall, on behalf of the Matthew Project, ministered to him, and when he was later released, he was so happy and he said we were going to get help at long last. 

From then on in, we were not alone. The Matthew Project provided counselling for me with a lovely counsellor by the name of Elizabeth. These sessions were vital as I had to also recover from the effects my son’s addiction had on me. For Jonathan, they provided a flat which he had to unfortunately give up when he was sent to prison. Had we engaged more and fought that Judge’s decision, Jonathan may have made it to full recovery.  

Since Jonathan’s sad death, The Matthew Project have for me been a lifeline through the shadows of my grief, they have given me a reason to go on and an outlet for remembering my lovely son and celebrating his life. On from the help they gave me to make some sense of the disease of addiction, they have continued to be my friend when at times, I did not feel I deserved one.

A drug death can be so enmeshed in guilt and regrets for those left behind and such things as the remembrance walk and the yearly Cathedral service to remember all those lost to addiction, have given me a light in the darkness. Thank you to all those at The Matthew Project, to Rachel and Sarah, as well as past workers Julian Bryant a previous CEO, to name but a few of the valiant and caring people who help to make the Matthew Project the respectable and amazing organisation it is to this day."