They Always Ask ....HOW?

I hate that question. It is a completely normal response when someone finds out that you have a child that died. However, I go through so many emotions each time it is asked. Each time,my heart breaks, the tears come, the defense mechanism kicks in, then, scrambling for a different answer. Always back to the truth...My Son died of a drug overdose. There, it's out. But, please let me explain I always say. You have to know. That is not who he was. He was so much more. But I'm his mother that is what people expect me to say.

Will I ever get passed the need to defend his honor, his name, who he really was? I don't think I will.

Why can't I just say "car wreck", "cancer"? Because it's not the truth. I even try to say "He died in his sleep", which he did. I have tried saying "his heart", which it was... in a sense.

There was this preacher friend that I see every year. He knew Philip from Summer Camp. Philip volunteered every year as a teenager and he loved it. When I saw Bro Darrell for the first time after Philip's death, I shared with him how I felt about telling people how my son died. I'll never forget what he told me as he wept with me. He held out his hands as to measure and said "This is Philip's life and it was a wonderful life, a great young man". Then he took his two fingers as to show a small part, and he said, "this is the part right before Philip died, don't take away that long beautiful part because of the little bad part." That really helped me, and still does. He suggested I say something like, "his heart stopped", which it did, but let me tell you what happened the first time I tried that. Not only am I a really honest person, but my timing is terrible. I had gone back to work at the hospital and I had a patient that I had gotten close to. She found out about Philip and asked the question, "how did he die?" Well, I hesitated a second then I said, "his heart stopped.". She was a doctor! That answer was so shallow. She asked one more question then I began to cry. I told her that wasn't really the truth. I told her the truth and then told her why I tried to avoid it. It ended up that she was a believer and she and I wept together and prayed together...(yeah, I probably broke all kinds of rules). That's okay the job didn't last long anyway. I was in no shape to work. I never noticed before Philip died that all my patients would ask about my children, I just always answered. Now when they would ask, I would always cry.

As always, when I write something on this blog, I learn something. It's amazing. I know that as painful as it is, I have to tell the truth. How else could I help another without honesty. And as painful as it is that truth opens the door to help in ways I couldn't imagine. So...I really don't have a choice.