An Addict's Mother
Loving Your Child and Yourself
I was blessed with two beautiful daughters, Kimberly and Dana, and I am grateful and proud of the women they became.
Tragically, my younger daughter battled addiction for 20 years before it took her life on September 17, 2021.
I have always kept a journal as a way to process my feelings and try to make sense of the events in my life. Dana gave me permission to share what I had written, as a way to help others.
The following is an excerpt from one of the books in progress inspired by Dana’s story.
Sadly, I had thought about my daughter’s eulogy for many years.
Not because I wanted to, but the addiction that claimed her life caused her to make choices that I guess I knew would eventually take her from us.
We all tried so hard - her loving family and many friends - to save her, but God had other plans.
As one of her friends said in the hundreds of condolence messages we all received:
“Just know she did what she was supposed to do here on earth. Know that she impacted so many so greatly that God had to call her to a higher place to touch more people and make more of a difference just in another way..”
I think that she is guiding my fingers as I write - part of that legacy from beyond.
I feel her presence constantly, and many of these words will be hers to us all.
Remembering Dana
Dana was an angelic baby, an adorable toddler, a fun child, a challenging teen, who grew up to be a loving, kind, wise, precious, courageous daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend.
There are many stories yet to share, and she has given me permission to share ours.
Dana stayed on life support long enough to give us time to say goodbye, bring our family together, and become a tissue donor.
As I sat by her side the first few days, I wrote:
Remembering Dana
Dana was an angelic baby, an adorable toddler, a fun child, a challenging teen, who grew up to be a loving, kind, wise, precious, courageous daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend.
There are many stories yet to share, and she has given me permission to share ours.
Dana stayed on life support long enough to give us time to say goodbye, bring our family together, and become a tissue donor.
As I sat by her side the first few days, I wrote:
Chapter 1
How Do You Say Goodbye…to your dying daughter…
How do you thank her for the years of joy?
How can you let her go, when you were supposed to go first?
How can you imagine a life without her in it?
The answer is….
you don’t..
It’s not goodbye
It’s - see you later.
You don’t let go
You hold tight to all that was good.
You don’t have a life without her
But you fill your life with memories and connection.
I put my forehead touching hers…
skin to skin
like when she was a baby….
and I held her close so she could feel
my body warmth touching her.
I rub her arms
hoping that my touch will bring peace and relaxation
because I don’t know what’s going on inside.
My daughter overdosed, had a heart attack and didn’t breathe for 40 minutes.
She was put on a ventilator, non-responsive, staying alive, I think, so that she could help those of us who have loved her to have time to say “good-bye.’
I’m holding her hand through her shiva….
Calling my relatives and friends and crying, as I hold and rub …
Saying Goodbye …to her body…
The time comes when you have to leave the room…
When the machines are turned off…
the breathing stops
and she is truly out of her body.
But I experienced her Soul all week and always.
And her last gift in that body was she let me be there to hold her and hug her and rub her arm, and say the names in her ear of everyone who wished her peace and sent their love, and mentioned all the people waiting to welcome her to the Table in the Sky…
I sang her the lullaby that I had sung to her…and to Kimmy, Oliver, Tommy and Maisie…
Go to sleep, for awhile
Go to sleep with a smileWhen you wake up, I’ll be near
Cause I love you so, Dana Dear,Go to sleep, know your loved,
as God watches above.Go to sleep, Dana, do,
Kimmy, Daddy and I ….and everyone else…loves you.
And the final gift this body gave to both of us is that it went quickly.
What might have taken a very long time, took only minutes.
And I couldn’t cry.
I’d been crying all week in waves… but in those moments I was moved by the grace of being present.
As an Angel, she had sent three dear friends from my past to be with me…
….but those last moments were ours.
I could hug her and hold her and put our hearts together - literally for the last time physically - as she took her last breath.
And now the joining of our hearts goes on forever.
Saying Goodbye …with the family…
She brought us all together..
I got the call on Sunday, and the rest of the family was able to come on Wednesday.
We spent the day in her room in shifts, and finally we could all be in the room together.
We had planned to take her off the ventilator and be together when she was gone.
But when we got to the hospital that morning, the nurse told us that the doctor had said that he thought “brain death was imminent.”
I didn’t want to deprive the family of that last ritual together, but I knew she wanted to donate her organs, which I had learned the night before could not be done unless she was brain dead.
After a discussion that we all wanted to honor her plans to donate her organs, I assured everyone I would be okay alone with her until such time as we could preserve her chance to let her body help someone else.
First Pete and Torrie went in alone.
Then Vanessa, next Olivia.
I went in with Kimmy, and then Kimmy stayed alone until she signaled that I could come back in with Pete.
The grief was profound, but so was the love.
We could touch her and cry together, holding each other, thanking each other, forgiving each other…. and knowing that we did the best we could - and so did she..
When they left that night, they had said their goodbyes.
I had two more days….
… if you’d like to read more of the first chapter of An Addict’s Mother, tap below
I would love to hear your own stories if you’d like to share them with me.
Please share with anyone who could use the camaraderie and support.