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Jane Hutcheon

broadcaster/journalist/author

23 Dec
2019

Dear Jane: I Haven't Seen My Son in Twenty-Five Years Life deliberate life

Jane Hutcheon

Dear Jane,

I am a very sad mother.  I am a drug addict’s mother. I have had little choice but to delete my son from my life because it became too unbearable to witness any more of his behaviour. 

I haven't seen my son in twenty-five years. 

My child (born in the late 1960’s) began to die to me when he started using drugs at fifteen.  For thirty-six years I have trodden a scary path not of my choosing. It’s a path I would not wish upon another parent as it takes you to the very edge of life and to the deepest part of your soul.

Each year as December begins I think I am doing absolutely fine until the hungry ghosts come searching for me.

I try to hide from them but they sneak up when my back is turned and catch me out. I do everything in my power to bring joy into my life but to no avail.

Last Christmas was a shocker. Now this year I will just meet the ghosts at the door and invite them in to take a place at my table. I will just have to sit with them. 

I am done pretending my son never existed for other people's comfort. 

Having to face their judgement and shame, their pity, and above all their silence. I must continue on as there is no way out but to sit with the grief of a living child that just clings to life by a knife edge, not fully alive and not dead. Grief is all about the love you cannot give and that’s what makes it so hard as your own love energy has no where to go.

For many years I blotted out my son’s memory as I was bed-ridden for more than 12 years with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). I had no energy to feel. In fact  I believe my body was in shock waiting for the fateful phone call about my son. 

The total absolute grief I feel about losing my son and living with CFS is beyond words. However, more recently I have built a rich internal tapestry through books and on line healing programs that I may never have had the chance to do if I hadn’t fallen so ill.

Regards, 

Susan

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