I originally started this journal (I don't think of it as a blog) about a year ago, after a disturbing night with Greg's drug use. I chose the quote in the title, because I was hoping desperately that Greg could get the help he needed and live the life he deserved. Obviously, that's not what happened.
My intent was to record all of the events on Greg's way to sobriety and happiness - and possibly it might help someone else's mother to hang on through their child's journey through drugs to a good life.
How naive and pathetically hopeful I was.
The journal lasted about a week. At the end of the week, I couldn't write all of the darkness, the horror stories. I didn't want to live in that. I wanted to live in the hope for the future, but it was not to be.
Of all the beautiful things he was, it makes me sick to think that this death - this suicide - this hanging - is the last thing he left us.
There was so much love - so much kindness - so much compassion and thoughtfulness. Those are the things I'll always remember about Greg. Those are the things I'll hold on to for the rest of my life (however long or short that may be).
The day Greg died, I re-opened this journal - erased all of the initial 'drug' posts - and started again. Maybe someday someone else's mother who has lost her adult child to drugs will stumble on this and know that she's not alone - that there are others who suffer with her, even though we don't know her.
Brynn said yesterday, "If he didn't take those s-h-i-t drugs, he'd still be here."I feel sure that she's right.
What could we have done that we didn't do? I'll ask that question every day for as long as I live.
And it's too late.
My intent was to record all of the events on Greg's way to sobriety and happiness - and possibly it might help someone else's mother to hang on through their child's journey through drugs to a good life.
How naive and pathetically hopeful I was.
The journal lasted about a week. At the end of the week, I couldn't write all of the darkness, the horror stories. I didn't want to live in that. I wanted to live in the hope for the future, but it was not to be.
Of all the beautiful things he was, it makes me sick to think that this death - this suicide - this hanging - is the last thing he left us.
There was so much love - so much kindness - so much compassion and thoughtfulness. Those are the things I'll always remember about Greg. Those are the things I'll hold on to for the rest of my life (however long or short that may be).
The day Greg died, I re-opened this journal - erased all of the initial 'drug' posts - and started again. Maybe someday someone else's mother who has lost her adult child to drugs will stumble on this and know that she's not alone - that there are others who suffer with her, even though we don't know her.
Brynn said yesterday, "If he didn't take those s-h-i-t drugs, he'd still be here."I feel sure that she's right.
What could we have done that we didn't do? I'll ask that question every day for as long as I live.
And it's too late.
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