Living Through Grief

and Overcoming Addiction Before It’s Too Late

article by Cindy G. Foust

It’s the month of love readers and I hope this February finds you spending time and enjoying the ones that you love the most. For me, as I write my column this month, I do so with a heavy heart. It has been a rather burdensome few weeks, as I’ve helped my best friend battle through multiple medical crisis, and attended funerals of beloved friends and family members. I’ve given a lot of thought these past few months, and I’m wondering if any of you ever do the same, about death.

Wait.

Isn’t this column supposed to be about children and parenting and an occasional rant for the sake of my having to consult a therapist? It is, but every now and then I take the creative liberty to write about things that weigh heavy on me, things that get heavier as I get older. As you know readers, because I try to write with a transparent keyboard, and I share with you a lot of things about my life, I have experienced my share of the dark, black abyss called grief. I am all too keenly aware of the fact that life simply hangs in the balance for us, and every day is a gift. In the blink of an eye, it can turn on you and that fast-paced life you were living can render you to a crawl. I really wanted to share my “love” story with you this month, readers, because it deserves retelling and it is after all, the month of love and love stories, right? I mean, who knew what would result for me from a chance meeting at my 10-year class reunion? Three beautiful children…a beautiful life…a life that has had its share of fractures, of heartbreak, of grief, but a beautiful life nonetheless. Who knew when Scott stalked me at our 10-year class reunion, and by stalk I mean a Nancy Grace worthy stalking case, that I would say “yes” to a lunch date and the rest would be, as they say, history. Depending on which historian you ask, there might be some dispute as to what classifies as stalking, but listen to me very carefully, readers, every time I turned around at my reunion Scott was standing in “my space.” I would remind him that he did indeed have a date (incidentally, I did not…and my mother and sister made me go to this merrymaking) and he was quick to respond “No worries, she’s eating shrimp.” Wait. Let me get this straight…you dumped your date to stalk someone you haven’t seen in 10 years AND someone who thought you were a MOW-RON in high school? Folks, there you have it…proof that at ONE TIME in my life I must have looked like a babe. But, my babe status is not the subject of this month’s column even though this Harlequin type love story kind of is. Well, not really a Harlequin romance, but this month’s column is a reminder that there are all types of love stories…romantic love stories, family love stories, friend love stories, pet love stories…love is in fact in every facet of our lives…if we just let it in.

Last week my family had to say good-bye to a close family friend…one of my sister’s best childhood friends and someone who had always been like a sister to me. This love story, however, was difficult to endure, readers, for you see, this friend died because she couldn’t overcome an addiction.

For years her family and friends would beg her to quit but were actually helpless in helping her overcome her disease. Oh, the struggles we have watched; the heartaches we have witnessed; the pain we have experienced. In particular, her daughter, now a young adult, who now must face the rest of her life without her mom, is left with grief, with guilt, with heartache. It’s hard to watch someone you love so much go through this kind of pain, knowing that there is really nothing you can say that will remove or take away anything she is feeling. What you want to say, and what you want her to know is this love story, even with this tragic ending, is still a story of love.

Through the years, and even during the difficult dark times, we never stopped loving. From my experience, this experience, people with addiction often feel lost, unloved, ashamed, when the reality is the people who are trying to help them, the people standing in the gap never stop loving them. They never want them to feel shame or humiliation. They simply want them to find their way, to overcome, to win the battle. It’s a slippery slope, I know from experience, when you feel that tough love is necessary; love so tough that you lose your voice from screaming, from begging, from crying, still to no avail. How can someone who is so beautiful, with just as much inward beauty, not see what we see? How can someone with everything to live for privately continue to do the very thing that convinces her she has nothing to live for? These are battles, questions that I don’t have the answers to, nor will I ever understand. I have never been addicted to anything (well, food if that counts and that might be a different column for a different day) and the disease she suffered from is as foreign to me as the Russian dialect. But this I do know, many people suffer from similar diseases and the outcome is the same many times. My sister and I have talked about it quite a bit through the years, as Shelley sacrificed much to try and help her friend, and the end result was the one thing that my sister fought so hard to prevent. As I sat in my friend’s funeral, and listened to my sister deliver her eulogy so eloquently, with so much love, a few words came to my mind…senseless, unnecessary, preventable. I wish we could have reached her. I wish we could have made her realize her worth to us. I wish she were here, laughing her deep belly laugh at everything I said. But she is not…she is resting, I pray, at peace, for the first time in over 20 years with no more struggles, no more pain. Is this the outcome we prayed for or wanted? Absolutely not, but it is the outcome we must suffer through and it’s a story that bears repeating, for many reasons. If you are that friend, that family member, trying to help someone you love overcome their addictions, I hope you know your worth and continue to fight for their lives. If you are that person, like my friend suffering with the same demons, I pray you will cling to the hope that there is a better way and work your way to find it, and know that you are worthy, you are valued and you are loved. It was a tough column to write, readers, tears streaming, heart aching, but it’s a compelling love story that I pray will help even one person. Knowing my good friend, this would give her peace to know her story was used to help someone before they know the same outcome that she sadly did.

Cindy G. Foust is a wife, mom, author and blogger. You can find her blog at the alphabetmom.com for weekly columns about home life, parenting, small business stories, insight with a smidgen of literacy. Give her a like or follow on Facebook and Instagram.