Dear Heroin: A Memoir of Goodbyes
is an inspirational tale of life, death and finding new life again.
It begins the day I learned my youngest son, Michael died by suicide. He had struggled with a substance abuse disorder for four years.
Our family journeyed alongside Mike as he entered a total of eight treatment centers around the country. He had a total of 23 months of sobriety along with multiple relapses.
Mike was born on a hot humid day on August 8, 1988. He grew up in a home with two loving parents and his two older brothers Dan and Sean. Growing up in Saint Paul, Minnesota the brothers went on campouts together, played outdoor hockey in the winter and played catch out front of the house in the summer.
In June of 2008 while on a camping trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA), with three of his closest friends and their dads, Mike’s dad, Allan saw him in the back of the van in the middle of the night, inhaling a substance on a piece of aluminum foil. His dad had no idea what it was. Allan did not confront Mike on what he had seen. Allan first talked to Mike’s older brother, Dan about what he’d seen.
Dan did some checking around to find out what this substance could be. Several days later he called his dad and told him he thought it was heroin. On a Friday evening a week later as our family sat on our deck discussing what his dad had seen, Mike disclosed he was using heroin and stated he didn’t think he could stop on his own. A few days later, Mike entered Hazelden, now the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, his first treatment center, where we would soon learn he had a serious heroin addiction.
In June of 2010, after his second time in Hazelden, Mike moved from his hometown in Minnesota to Carbondale, Colorado, to work on his recovery. It was there he made a new life surrounded by a community friends that loved and accepted him not as an addict, but a kind, caring and sensitive young man who could light up a room with his megawatt smile. He made a new start in this small mountain community. The impact he made during his two years there was one we never truly understood until after his death. We were told by a friend of his that if he’d run for Mayor of Carbondale, he would have won by a landslide.
In January of 2012, Mike began a downward spiral of drug use, relapse and short periods of recovery that lasted for five months. For Allan and myself it was a time of sleepless nights with calls from Mike, his friends, and countless emergency rooms as he cycled through the ups and downs of his addiction.
In March his dad drove to Colorado to be with Mike and try to help him find some long term help for his anxiety and depression and to help keep him in recovery. Together, with Mike’s doctors, social workers and his counselors, they came up with a plan of care that everyone hoped would help Mikey achieve this. He would begin Intensive Outpatient (IOP) and counseling for his mental health issues in a few weeks in Colorado.
When Allan was getting ready to return home, Mikey asked if he could ride back to Minnesota with his dad to make amends to his brothers and me before his IOP began. It seemed like a good idea. Mike and his dad were soon on the road to Minnesota. They surprised me in the middle of the night when they arrived back home. Mike spent eleven days with us before he had to return to Colorado to begin his next phase of recovery.
Unfortunately, he relapsed several times over the next few weeks. He was transported by ambulance to the hospital twice for overdoses. In April he was finally admitted to a psychiatric ward for five days because the nurses at the hospital found suicide notes in his trash can. During that time in phone calls between the doctors and Allan and I we tried to figure out what Mike’s next steps might be.
When he was released from the hospital Mike moved in with a good friend and mentor, Sammy who desired to help him. While living at Sammy’s, Mike relapsed and it was decided he could not continue to live with him. After that relapse Sammy and Mike decided he needed to come home to figure out what he should do next. In early May the two of them drove to Minnesota for Mike’s very last road trip. After his friend returned to Colorado, Mike entered Hazelden for his last time. Our family visited Mike every weekend during his 28 days. Mike was discharged from Hazelden on Tuesday June 19. Allan and I picked him up in the morning and brought him home. He spent a few hours with us before we drove with him to Crossroads, a halfway house where he would be living. We met the house manager, toured the facility, and then left Mike to get acquainted with his new living arrangements. I didn’t hear from Mike until later Wednesday evening. I had texted him about coming over for dinner that night. He said he’d think about it. He didn’t. He and I exchanged a few messages late in the evening. We didn’t know at the time, he never stayed at Crossroads that night.
On Thursday morning June 21, as I was doing those mundane mom things, my doorbell rang. When I answered I was face to face with two uniformed police officers standing at my door. I invited them in. I was told my son had died by suicide at a local motel. There was drug paraphernalia in the room as well as a handwritten note Mike had left on the nightstand. One of the officers at my house had responded to the call from the motel.
That was the moment when the life I had known was irreversibly changed and I knew it would never, ever be the same. When one horrific journey ended and another began: a journey of loss whose pain has no words. It is not a journey any mother ever plans to undertake.
Over the years since Mike died, the sorrow and grief I experienced has led me to gratitude and hope. In Dear Heroin, I hope to share the miracle of feeling joy and laughter again, and finding abundance after this unimaginable loss. And I want others that are traveling this path to know: they are not alone.
Dragonfly symbolism in the book
My first encounter with a dragonfly came early June 2014, two summers after Mike died. It was a beautiful summer morning. I felt mysteriously drawn to the pond a block from our home. I had gathered a few belongings to take with me: my Bible, a notebook, a writing pen, my Rebel Cannon camera, a water bottle and a snack. It was a speculator day. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a vibrant blue with a few wispy clouds floating overhead. I walked down the wooden steps that led to the path that runs part way around the pond. I walked to one of the benches that sits next to shore, unpacked my backpack and set my things on the bench. The pond was calm. I could clearly see the reflection of the trees in the pond. I closed my eyes as the sun’s rays kissed my cheeks and I drank in the fresh air. I opened my eyes and glanced around the pond. I heard the chirps and squawks of birds flying overhead. A goose made its graceful landing at one end of the pond. It swam around for a bit before taking off.
I opened my notebook and began to journal about my journey. I wrote about how much I missed Mike. I thanked God for his life and the twenty-three years we had with him. My heart ached as I wrote, yet I felt very much at peace. I laid my notebook down on the bench and took out my snack and began to nibble away. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement. I slowly looked to my right and sitting on the bench next to me was a red dragonfly. It was looking directly at me. We stared at each other for several minutes. Then I slowly moved my left hand as I wanted to pick up my camera and snap a picture. Unfortunately, that movement caused the dragonfly to fly away. I was miffed at myself for my clumsy effort that caused it to leave yet it didn’t dampen the peacefulness I was feeling. I sat for a while longer before I headed home with a grateful heart and a smile on my face. I continued to ponder seeing the red dragonfly for several days after that.
I decided to do a little research on them. I came across the website, anniehorkan.com. There was a picture of a red dragonfly, similar to the one I had seen. In an article titled Red Dragonfly Symbolism and the Transformation of Death, Annie writes, “Red dragonflies can be rare to view, and very special when the opportunity comes along. Yet interestingly, they often appear to people surrounding life episodes of loss and death; perhaps a bit of an oxymoron that these lovely, winged creatures are present at such times. Dragonfly is the metaphor for our own transformations out of the depths of our emotional dramas into a place of freedom with the soothing message that this transformation will carry us to freedom and eternal love…
In Japan the dragonfly is considered to be very sacred. The Japanese embrace the dragonfly as a symbol of courage, strength and happiness while the Native Americans speak of the dragonfly as bringing a time of rejuvenation after a long period of trials and hardship. The Native Americans perceived dragonflies as the ‘souls of the dead’ so a dragonfly visitation around a loved one’s death could well signify the loved one’s soul taking the form in the spirit dragonfly. It offers assurance their soul is free…When we consider the color red and its meaning, we find the significance to be deeply linked to the earth. The color red is affiliated with our passions and strong emotions around heat, fire, anger and love. To witness a red dragonfly around death is a comforting reminder that in letting go of material and emotional trappings, we are being set free.” See the website for the complete article. That was my one and only encounter with a red dragonfly.
However, another dragonfly encounter I had was in the summer of 2017. I was sitting in a lawn chair in my back yard reading a book. A blue-winged dragonfly landed on my thumb, facing toward me. It sat there for a minute or two, seemingly staring me down before it flew away. I have continued to have other encounters with dragonflies over the years.
This is the reason why I have included a picture of a dragonfly on each chapter title page.