What I wouldn't do for 5 more minutes....
If someone had told me 2 years ago I be sitting here writing a Blog about the death of my son, I would have probably not believed them. Not that I didn't doubt that there was a possibility that my son will not be here, it would have been more about the blog. In my own abilities to write something that would affect others lives in a positive way. That was what this blog started out to be. To share my experience, strength, hope, and love, so not one more mother or father felt alone in their grief.
The loss of a child to addiction is not like any other loss. Not that I'm discounting any other parents loss, don't take me wrong. Any loss, any grief in this way is horrifying. No parent should bury a child. I don't care what age. I don't care what the reason.
However, watching your child kill themselves over an extended period of time is excruciating, unnecessary, and something that no one should have to endure. My story is similar to everyone else's and yet unlike everyone else's. We each have a story to tell. We can hear each other stories in the groups and we understand each other. We become bonded for life. Its an unfortunate thing and yet comforting at the same time.
On November 23rd, 2016 I lost my 22 year old son Collin Gregory Seagriff to an overdose. What he thought was heroin turned out to be fentanyl and morphine.
I am now helping raise his 8 month old son Brayden Matthew. I look into those sweet little brown eyes and I see my son. I see his big heart, his kind soul. Everytime he gets a little scratch or black and blue mark below his eye, I see that little Bruiser that Collin once was. The fire in his eyes and his soul that is now snuffed out forever lives on his son. Now on some days I find comfort in that, today I find none.
I am a huge advocate in sharing the love and the light to one person at a time one day at a time. Today I need a little of that love myself. It's hard to share love when you feel sad and alone.
Today happens to Mark the anniversary of my son's death. I've heard all of the comments...move on with your life, get a job, get a life, it must be a lack of faith, you're stronger than that, and that list does goes on. To the extent even...that at least you have his son. I've lost family I've lost friends I've lost a lot...nothing compares to the loss of my son.
So today before you judge me when you read this and tell me to hold my head up high. Before you give me an accolade, a pat on the back, or tell me how strong I am please remember that I am just a human. One with scars, baggage, and a lifetime of pain topped off top with the loss of her son.
I'm just trying to get by like everyone else and yes I have bad days. No I'm not feeling sorry for myself I am just sharing that there are going to be bad days for everyone.
Yes, I look at my grandson and I see my son and some days it hurts. Then on other days I see a bright sunny boy with a bright sunny future ahead of him. I am grateful, I am humbled, and I wouldn't trade this little wonderful child for anything on the planet.
Just today I wish I had 5 more minutes with my own child. To hold him one last time and tell him how much I loved him. Yes, he knew I loved him. He knew that I would go to the ends of the Earth for him. He knew that I would stop a moving truck for him. He knew I would take a bullet for him. None of that matters now. What matters now is that I just want five more minutes with my child. To hold him and love him one last time and I'll never get that and it causes me great sadness. Sometimes no matter how much love I have to give the one person I want to give it to I can't.
So for me today you could do me a favor? Go hug a stranger, go hold your child, go tell someone anyone that you love them because it might be the last time you get the chance.
It just might be YOUR last five more minutes!
The loss of a child to addiction is not like any other loss. Not that I'm discounting any other parents loss, don't take me wrong. Any loss, any grief in this way is horrifying. No parent should bury a child. I don't care what age. I don't care what the reason.
However, watching your child kill themselves over an extended period of time is excruciating, unnecessary, and something that no one should have to endure. My story is similar to everyone else's and yet unlike everyone else's. We each have a story to tell. We can hear each other stories in the groups and we understand each other. We become bonded for life. Its an unfortunate thing and yet comforting at the same time.
On November 23rd, 2016 I lost my 22 year old son Collin Gregory Seagriff to an overdose. What he thought was heroin turned out to be fentanyl and morphine.
I am now helping raise his 8 month old son Brayden Matthew. I look into those sweet little brown eyes and I see my son. I see his big heart, his kind soul. Everytime he gets a little scratch or black and blue mark below his eye, I see that little Bruiser that Collin once was. The fire in his eyes and his soul that is now snuffed out forever lives on his son. Now on some days I find comfort in that, today I find none.
I am a huge advocate in sharing the love and the light to one person at a time one day at a time. Today I need a little of that love myself. It's hard to share love when you feel sad and alone.
Today happens to Mark the anniversary of my son's death. I've heard all of the comments...move on with your life, get a job, get a life, it must be a lack of faith, you're stronger than that, and that list does goes on. To the extent even...that at least you have his son. I've lost family I've lost friends I've lost a lot...nothing compares to the loss of my son.
So today before you judge me when you read this and tell me to hold my head up high. Before you give me an accolade, a pat on the back, or tell me how strong I am please remember that I am just a human. One with scars, baggage, and a lifetime of pain topped off top with the loss of her son.
I'm just trying to get by like everyone else and yes I have bad days. No I'm not feeling sorry for myself I am just sharing that there are going to be bad days for everyone.
Yes, I look at my grandson and I see my son and some days it hurts. Then on other days I see a bright sunny boy with a bright sunny future ahead of him. I am grateful, I am humbled, and I wouldn't trade this little wonderful child for anything on the planet.
Just today I wish I had 5 more minutes with my own child. To hold him one last time and tell him how much I loved him. Yes, he knew I loved him. He knew that I would go to the ends of the Earth for him. He knew that I would stop a moving truck for him. He knew I would take a bullet for him. None of that matters now. What matters now is that I just want five more minutes with my child. To hold him and love him one last time and I'll never get that and it causes me great sadness. Sometimes no matter how much love I have to give the one person I want to give it to I can't.
So for me today you could do me a favor? Go hug a stranger, go hold your child, go tell someone anyone that you love them because it might be the last time you get the chance.
It just might be YOUR last five more minutes!
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