A mother's endless love

Do you know someone whose life was touched by accidental overdose or wondered what it’s like to loss a child? There are so many people whom live in our community that live with this type of traumatic loss every day, myself included. As a Chapter Leader of Grief Recovery After A Substance passing, I have met some of the bravest, strongest most broken-hearted people. One of them is Rebecca O’Toole and she was brave enough to answer that question publicly.

Rebecca has agreed to share her honest heartfelt post with us and her answers this heartbreaking question, what is it like to lose a child? Rebecca lost Kenny, her 23-year-old son, on July 6, 2012. She has been reaching out and trying to find ways to live with her grief ever since. As she was scanning the internet one day in 2015, she found the website Quora and read the hardest question on her screen anyone could’ve ever asked a mom. Rebecca took this as a chance to share her personal tragedy and genuine thoughts and feelings. She also wanted to make it clear that drugs don’t discriminate.

Quora asks: What is it like to lose a child?

Rebecca’s reply:

“This is a tough question to answer as it brings all the pain I try to push back (he’s just on a long vacation; he’s busy with work, etc., AKA denial) with as much force as I can muster, until I’m lying in bed alone with my thoughts, trying to hold on to every detail I can about him. The fear of forgetting his voice one day drives me insane.”

“I had my firstborn son, Kenneth Wayne III, when I was 19 years old. I loved him before I laid eyes on him. I couldn’t wait to meet him and when I heard his first breath, I instantly realized the meaning of unconditional love. I knew right then and there that nothing would ever change this deep love I felt. I was a child myself at the time, so I refer to his upbringing as he and I growing up together, in a sense. I learned the meaning of maturity, responsibility, selflessness, compassion, empathy, protection and many more traits. In turn, I taught him the same.”

We explored nature, played hide-n-seek, went to the beach, made sand castles, watched Sesame Street, Disney movies, danced, read books, sang songs and listened to lots of rock-n-roll music. Two and a half years later, his brother was born. Ken’s first words when he laid eyes on him were, “Can you put him back in there now”?! Of course, that changed! Not only did they form a bond as brothers, they were the very best of friends!”

“Kenny was born with a drive to succeed. He had an extraordinary gift of gab, having long detailed conversations with adults starting at the age of 4. People were fascinated by his vast vocabulary and his drive to learn all he could. His questions were numerous. He was like a sponge, soaking up each reply given. It was obvious he would listen intently to your answer. He was incredibly loving, very respectful, silly and funny, spontaneous, athletic and extremely ambitious in his academic pursuits.”

“Beginning in elementary school, he was a 2x Spelling Bee Champion, won 1st place in the Greater San Diego Science Fair in physics, SCHS (High school) Science Olympiad Grand Champion and made the Principle’s Honor Roll for 16 consecutive quarters. He achieved various other awards in academics, along with awards for baseball, wrestling, and competitive Ping-Pong. His hard work paid off when Ken was accepted to each college he applied (5 UC schools). He decided on USC for their world class business school, the Marshall School of Business and entered the prestigious Lloyd Grief Center of Entrepreneurial Studies. He joined Delta Chi in his first year.”

“Kenny befriended all walks of life and ended college with many close friendships. Ken was looked to for advice in many different areas and respected everyone he came in contact with. He appreciated the beauty of life and was positive in his surroundings. He lived more in his short 23 years than most do in a lifetime. He traveled to Hong Kong and Greece, fished in Mexico, attended innumerable music festivals/concerts and academic debates, never missing out on anything he wanted to do. He came home often to spend time with his family and friends in San Diego.

“Obviously, to try and answer this question, I felt I needed to describe who Kenny was as a person. I thought long and hard how to put into words the loss of a child. I don’t believe there are any words that can truly describe the pain, horror, and anxiousness I feel without my son. I identify with the pain and sorrow in each answer written here by other parents (Other Quora site participants). Words like sadness, despondency, and misery don’t begin to scratch the surface of emotions. I’m left wondering how to console my other two children when I can’t understand nor accept this grief myself.”

“The instant the coroner came to my door, life as I knew it was over. When the words came out of his mouth, the life I had ended. The things I thought so important no longer mattered. The guilt is overpowering. No matter how many people try and persuade you that it’s not your fault, somehow it still is.

“I don’t know the details of the night my son lost his life. I know what caused his passing but the roommates he lived with told us they were ‘too shaken up’ to speak of any details. While I can only imagine the panic and despair they felt, can they imagine the anxiety me as his mother feels not knowing? I created this human in my body, I was there to hear his first breath, yet I’ll never know about his last moments. I’ll never know what he was thinking or the why’s that surrounded this tragedy.”

“It was 3 years on July 6, 2015. I’ve read that ‘time heals’; that’s not a statement I agree with. It hasn’t been true for me. The first and second year were shock and denial. When January 1st came this year (2015) all I could think was ‘UH OH’ here we go again. I believe that’s when I finally realized he wasn’t going to come home. Perhaps as time goes by it will change. I don’t see that light at the end of this tunnel. I don’t want to go thru birthdays, holidays, anniversary dates, and celebrations without my firstborn child. Losing your child leaves a hole in your very soul that cannot be filled. It leaves you numb, breathless, anxious, sobbing, apprehensive, angry, bitter, hateful and many other emotions tied up in the word “grief.”

“Getting back to an answer to this question, (finally) here it is: I pray that the whomever is reading this never personally knows what it’s like to lose a child. If you have lost your child, I’m so very sorry for you, and your child. All I can say is that I wish you peace in your journey.” Rebecca

I want to thank Rebecca for sharing this and allowing us to share into her very private journey with her loss. The brave, honest replies can give others insight into what it’s like to lose someone as precious as a child, giving us the great opportunity to grow in understanding and compassion.

It is clear that Rebecca and Kenny share a never-ending bond that only a mother and child can have. This love did not end with his passing or with the passing of time. The brain needs to process such an unimaginable loss before coming to acceptance of the fact of what happened and why.

This is extremely difficult for Rebecca because she is dealing with complicated circumstances surrounding her son’s passing. Complications with moving through the “grief process” describe this very difficult process that Rebecca finds herself in throughout the years. Most of us know the situations and circumstances surrounding our loved one’s passing, understand and have already begun to accept what happened and why at some point. Rebecca does not completely know the details. She has only bits and pieces, making it difficult to find ways to find any part of acceptance of her tragic loss.

Like many parents, Rebecca knows that there were people there who know more than they are willing to share perhaps out of fear of getting into trouble or maybe they just can’t face their own involvement. I also know the feeling of not having all the information surrounding a child’s last minutes or day my child’s life. We can only hope one day the people near to them will find mercy on us and share their stories, even if only with us. Until then it haunts us and we try to find ways to cope with the parent’s pain of not being able to help our children in the time of most need.

People say that getting angry and blaming someone is part of the grief process and it is true. As a parent, it is also natural for us to want all the information possible. Trying to understand who is to blame or who to direct our anger towards is so overwhelmingly powerful. Like Rebecca, I have never been able to be angry at my child. On February 10^th 2005, Candice was 18 years old when she was arrested and ate methamphetamine in fear of being charged with drugs. As a result, she overdosed in custody and had total organ failure within seven days. I still don’t know all of her last days or moments. As parents we often blame ourselves for not knowing, for not doing more, for not protecting them, even from themselves. We live in the “Should’ve, Could’ve or Would’ve” part of losing a child that really never goes away. We learn tools to help each other through the days and relate to each other’s pain. Although, each of us could tell you we wish we knew everything and, in our hearts, still wish we could have saved our babies.

Parents who have lost a child for any reason often ban together. Rebecca and I have a common bond that many of our other friends do not understand. We lost our children to accidental overdoses. Our old friends often have fallen away and our phone books change. They either do not want to upset us or believe we should be “Over It” and we push them away. Hearing our children’s names and speaking about them is something we yearn to do. We will never stop loving our children and will never be over losing them. We learn to honor their lives. We often begin to speak out about our loss and find ways to continue to live our lives in their honor. Every year we gather join others candlelight vigil to remember our lost loved ones.

International Overdose Awareness Day is On August 31^st, 2018. We will be honoring our children in a candlelight vigil and pier walk. We will gather at the Oceanside Pier from 6:30 pm – 8:30pm with those whom have lost their loved ones to overdose and those who support awareness of the growing epidemic. Rebecca and I would like to invite you to come out and help us honor our children. We will speak about sensible solutions to the overdose epidemic and grieve openly. For more information about this event contact Shawn Norton at shawnmnorton@yahoo.com.

If you ever questioned what it was like to lose a child, Rebecca gave you an amazingly honest answer. I personally would like to thank Rebecca for sharing herself with me and so many others in this article. She is a woman that I admire, respect and am grateful to have in my support group.

If you or anyone you know would like more information about Grief Recovery After A Substance Passing group or need more information about our upcoming candle light vigil please contact me at shawnmnorton@yahoo.com or http://grasphelp.org/.