Grief & Loss – Opiate Nation

All Souls, All Saints, All of Us

(Translation into most languages at tab to the right.)

This year, the All-Souls’ Procession in Tucson, where I live, is today. The traditional date for celebrating All Souls’ Day (the Day of the Dead) is November 2nd. It was delayed this year because Halloween was on the same weekend. Tucson has one of the largest processions in the country with several hundred thousand people participating. Preceding this is All Saints Day on November 1^st.

All Saints Day had its beginnings in Roman Church tradition dating back to the early centuries when Christians were martyred for their faith or who had publicly confessed and somehow survived the Roman persecution. The belief was that they were saints and immediately taken up into heaven. By the mid 800’s, Pope Gregory IV assigned Nov. 1^st as the holy feast of All Saints.

All Souls’ Day evolved sometime around 1000 as a time to pray for the souls of all who had died. This is tied in directly with the Catholic Church belief in purgatory and those who are awaiting the joys of heaven. In pleading for them, we are reminded of our own offenses and so inspired to lead purer lives.

My husband, John, and I have walked many times in the procession here in Tucson although we are not Catholics and we believe that all those who have faith in and follow Jesus are saints, as the New Testament teaches.(1) Many Evangelical Christians think it is wrong to participate in All Souls’ events because it is not biblical to pray for the dead and they reject the concept of purgatory because nothing we do can alter ones destination in the afterlife. (2)

While we hold to basic New Testament beliefs, we do not find it contradictory to be part of the All-Souls’ procession in remembrance of our son, John Leif. The procession is a public ceremony to honor the dead and celebrate their lives, allowing participants to release and integrate their grief. Our son’s death from a heroin overdose – a reason many others are there – continues to be a source of sadness and regret. To remember and celebrate him as a person worthy of love is important for us. We do not want to shame him and do not want him to be forgotten.

What is sad to us is the way in which this holiday is treated with similar vitriol that partisan politics infiltrates so many areas of American life these days. There are “Christians” who stand along the procession route shouting out ugly and sinful – yes, sinful – rebukes to those walking in remembrance of their loved ones. Sadly, many people feel it necessary to take a side on almost every issue – and supposed Christians are some of the leading voices. The unholy mixture of politics and “faith” in our country is deeply disturbing to us and absolutely un-Biblical.

While we hold that our beliefs are true and worthy of sharing with others, we also feel it imperative that we respect others’ beliefs and faith traditions without mocking or denigrating them as all New Testament writing demonstrates. This is especially important when it comes to how people choose to remember and honor their loved ones who have died.

In the past several decades, opioid addiction has taken the lives of hundreds of thousands of beautiful young people. We believe they are worthy of being remembered without shame and with love in whatever way their loved ones choose. And in so doing, we hope their lives stand as a warning for other young people tempted into experimenting with increasingly deadly drugs.

I Corinthians 1:2, Romans 1:7, Philippians 1:1, Ephesians 2:19
Hebrews 9:27
History behind All Saints and All Souls:

https://www.osvnews.com/the-history-behind-all-saints-and-all-souls-days/#:~:text=Remembering%20and%20praying%20for%20the%20faithful%20departed&text=He%20instituted%20this%20commemoration%20on,All%20Saints%20DayAll%20Souls

HEALTHCARE – Privilege or Basic Need?

(Translation into most languages at tab to right)

If access to health care is considered a human right, who is considered human enough to have that right?

I critique market-based medicine not because I haven’t seen its heights but because I’ve seen its depths.

~Paul Farmer, M.D., Ph.D. (1)

In sorting through bins of old notes and letters, I knew one bin in particular would bring up painful memories. It was our son, JL’s. It was difficult, as I had imagined. And one of the – no, THE – most painful reminder related to his death from an overdose. It was the fact that we played a role in his preventable death. And so does the American capitalistic healthcare debacle.

The previous New Year’s eve, he was with two of his friends who overdosed and one died. It shook him to his core and he came to us and asked for help. We went together to his addiction doctor and after separate sessions, we then talked together. His doctor said: “This young man cannot start using again because if he does, he will die.” This came from his years of experience working with young people who had been inadverntently caught up in the opioid epidemic of the 2000’s. He felt JL would need to be on Suboxone for a long period of time and maybe for the rest of his life.

JL was hesitant because he had been on Suboxone years ago when it was very expensive and being prescribed at 32 mg a day – a huge amount that left patients feeling like they were drugged. And the worse part was trying to get off it. Tapering off was extremely difficult and took forever – like extended withdrawals.

Aside from the physical hurdles was the cost. It was very expensive and, guess what? It was, of course, not covered by our private health insurance (which cost us almost $1000/mo as self-employed workers) because addiction was not considered a healthcare issue. As a matter of fact, if a person said they had an illegal drug addiction, they would likely be dropped from health insurance coverage and be reported to the police.

What is so painful for us now is that we made the decision that January to drop JL from our costly policy and to not cover his getting Suboxone due to the expenses (it would have been hundreds of dollars a month for the Rx). And in the mistaken belief that he just needed to try harder. We thought this would force him to stay clean – good old fashioned will power and hard work. He did go into a detox program for a month and then into a great sober living program where he did so well we thought we had turned the corner in his 10-year struggle with opioid addiction (which had started when he was 14 and experimenting with Oxy’s).

What we didn’t understand at that time was that opioid addiction is not overcome by willpower. The result was after 6 months, he finally had impacted wisdom teeth surgery and weeks of opioid pain meds – because we thought there was no other option and we thought he could handle it. Within 3 weeks he began using heroin again and after a few days, overdosed and died. August 2, 2014.

What our family did not have as an option was what was finally put into law in 2014: The Affordable Care Act (ACA). This law mandates that all new individual and small-group plans cover substance use disorder (SUD) treatment as one of the ten essential health benefits. It also prevents insurers from denying coverage or charging more because of a pre-existing condition, including addiction.

Sadly, there are politicians who want to revoke the ACA or limit much of its coverage. As the supposed leading nation in the developed world, we are the only one without universal health care for every person from cradle to grave. All of our peer nations have it. Some systems work better than others. Regardless, health care is not seen as an option or a privilege for those who can afford it. It is considered part of a healthy and egalitarian society.

But in order for our government to save money (since our elected officials don’t want to tax millionaires and billionaires equitably), there have been significant cuts to Medicaid and SNAP and changes to the Affordable Care Act (ACA), that are projected to increase costs and reduce coverage for millions. There are too many details to go into here, but the bottom line to me is this:

Why are we even debating how much coverage these programs and health insurance companies offer when we should be pressing for complete health care coverage for all Americans – especially for the least of us who can barely afford food?

If we consider ourselves a nation built on Judeo-Christian principles, how can we not believe that as a society it is our responsibility to care for the sick – as people of faith have always done?

If how we viewed health care changed – as a basic need instead of a privilege – then the necessary changes to our taxing structure and health insurance would change. Where there is a will, there is a way.

Dr. Paul Farmer. https://www.pih.org/paul

10th Anniversary Tribute

(Translation in most languages at tab to the right)

August 2, 2024

It has been 10 years since we woke up on a hot Saturday morning in August not thinking about anything in particular – other than the house projects we wanted to focus on for the day. Little did we know what had happened in the wee hours of the morning or how a knock on the door at 11am would change our lives forever.

John Leif (J.L.) had many friends in high school and university, many whom we stay in touch with. We have asked them to write their thoughts in remembrance of him on this 10^th anniversary of his death. Three of the tributes are the people who wrote the “Stories of Hope” at the end of Opiate Nation. Some of the tributes below are from friends that JL started using alcohol and Oxy’s with in middle or high school – before there was any open discussion about opioids and before their brains were mature enough to understand the deadly consequences of this particular addiction. And many went through years of struggling to get free from how opioids changed the neurological pathways in their brains. We are proud of them and love and thank them for their openness in sharing their stories and for all these heartfelt tributes expressing love for our son and for us.

Here is the YouTube link (or you can watch a mini version on the sidebar) for the photo/video tribute of JL’s life that Johanna and her cousins made: https://youtu.be/70rg4dqfFxU

My Brother

I have so many fond memories of my childhood growing up with John Leif. Our parents created an idyllic environment for us to grow up in; our mornings were spent doing our homeschool work and our afternoons were free for playing. JL and I spent many hours creating imaginary worlds with characters in Lego and Playmobil, racing his Hot Wheels cars or digging in the dirt with his Tonka Trucks. When he was little, he would also happily play baby dolls or dress ups with me, and we would create puppet shows or build forts in the living room or back yard. JL shared my love of animals, and we spent a lot of time playing with and caring for our many pets: cats, rats, hermit crabs, frogs and fish. While we had plenty of sibling fights over the years, he was the playmate I had been waiting for and I cherish the carefree time we were so privileged to have together. I wish that we could have continued growing up together into adulthood, sharing even more adventures and exploring new places. I miss him very much.

Johanna

You Are Always With Me

J. L. – It’s been 10 years – a full decade since your passing. My memory of your face is slightly fading. Your voice and your laugh aren’t as crisp in my mind anymore. Your appearances in my dreams have become less and less over the years. While I’m scared of forgetting about you, I’m relieved that I’m finally moving on. Your death has affected me tremendously, and there has been a hole in my heart that has felt bottomless for so long. Fortunately that has changed and that hole has been filled. Although I lost you – my best friend – I found another. Man, I wish you could meet her. You’d laugh because she’s exactly who I used to describe as my “perfect woman” during our long rooftop conversations while watching the sun rise after a long, rowdy night.

I have a full life though I still can’t delete your number from my phone contacts or your gamertag on Xbox (which I haven’t played in years). Life still doesn’t quite feel complete without you around. Memories of you, however, are becoming more a feeling of pleasant remembrance rather than a haunting reminder of your absence in this world. I like to think that this comes from your soul telling mine of your acceptance of the afterlife. Whatever the reason, you’ll always be with me as I enter the next chapters of my life. While I wish we were experiencing them together, I know you’re looking out and guiding me from above. I love you, my brother.

Kyle Thornton

His Death Changed Me

J.L. had an infectious laugh and smile, and a sort of curiosity like a coyote – a twinkle in his eye always. He was really damn smart and twice as funny. Also, very loyal to friends and those close to him. His death changed me, has forever changed me. The seriousness of addiction was clear before – but him suddenly being gone shook me to my core.

He’s missed, and I speak of him often to not forget him – to newcomers and men I take through the twelve steps, and to my friends and family.

Benjamin W.

He Was a Gift

John & Jude – Everyone you meet in life is someone you have no idea what effect they will have on you until you get to know them. And sometimes, people show up and blow you away. That was JL for me.

In high school, a lot was happening, and a lot went wrong for me. When I went to Social Studies with JL though, he made my day better. I can still clearly see the high school hallway during our breaks, and how I wanted to be around JL because he always made us laugh.

On weekends, when everyone went to parties, if I saw JL I felt safe – plain and simple. We talked and joked – there was never a negative part to being around him. I really loved the friendship I had with your son. I also really, really appreciate the respect he showed me as a friend. Although I wasn’t a best friend to him, he did impact my life and I hope you know that, because that’s due to you. JL was my friend, and I still think about him all the time.

He is happy where he is though – I know you know that – but just remember it when things get hard. I can’t even imagine the pain you go through every day. He was a gift.

Brittney Kline

Grateful for the Perspective You’ve Given Me

John & Jude – I have thought about JL often over the course of these past 10 years. Honestly, I find myself thinking about him more now that he is gone. I think about how much I have grown and changed over the last decade and wonder what changes and season of life he would be in if he were still with us. It makes me smile to think of JL having a wife and a kid and observing him being in that role.

J.L. – I miss you and I am grateful for what you’ve given me. The perspective you’ve given me, the thoughts you’ve brought to the surface, the memories you are part of and the reminder of just how fortunate we all are to still be fighting the good fight.

Rich Jacome

I Wish He Was Here

Ten years ago, news of JL’s death was unreal. I knew he was getting help for his addiction and had been clean for many months. Everything seemed like life was getting better for him. It did not seem real that he passed away. There was no tragic car accident, but a single slip of willpower. A moment of weakness, and poof! Like a vapor in the wind, he was gone.

I have many regrets with my end of our relationship. The biggest one was that I did not take the time to really get to know him as a teen and as a young adult. He was my kid-cousin, and I always assumed he’d be fine, just like myself. We were young, after all. I assumed he would have a long life and we’d have plenty of time to connect. But life is short. For him, much shorter.

His death opened my eyes to the extreme danger of self-medication and opiate addiction. I used to think of drug use as “bad decisions.” Now I understand it’s a lethal death sentence, especially now with even minor drugs laced with fentanyl. No one knows if “their pill” is the one pill that will end their life.

I wish he was here. I wish he knew how much he is loved. I wish he was not missing out on this beautiful world. I miss you JL.

Love, Cousin Justine

My Best Friend

Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about my best friend and my brother JL he was easily the closest bond that I’ve ever had in life. I have so many fun stories of JL and I find myself telling stories of him and I on a weekly basis.

JL taught me how to embrace life – he really knew how to have fun and he knew how to express how he felt about things. I would argue that he lived more in his life than most people could ever dream to do.

His intelligent and mischievous thoughts resonate through all my life’s great decisions. When I find myself talking to my own subconscious I don’t see me. I see JL.

William Skylar Helfrich

No Other Friend Like You

Dear J.L. – I’ll start this by saying the obvious which is you are dearly missed. I can’t believe I haven’t talked to you in almost 10 years. Some days it feels so long ago. Other days it feels like it was yesterday I was in culinary school, and we would talk at night and text. No matter where I was living you were my best friend. No judgment ever between us. Such a rare thing. We completely understood each other on every level. I had never had a friend I connected with on the level I did with you. I haven’t since either.

Your funeral was so surreal to me. It still hurts so bad, so often. I think of you and the things we will never get to do. Losing you and my father so close together is a wound that will never heal, no matter the time passed. I wish you could see my life today and share it with me. I think of you often and still say to myself a lot of the phrases we always said to each other. The memories we made together will always live within me. I hope to see you again one day.

Love, Matt

A Significant Impact

I never knew John Leif, but his life had an impact on me that has been significant. I met Jude & John Trang through their friendship with my own parents, and I heard their story with addiction, which so closely mirrored what I had put my parents through with my own substance dependence. When I met the Trang’s, I didn’t know any other families like mine. John Leif and I had a lot in common. We had two parents who loved us, we had a nice home life, we had options and opportunities, we were the same age. And we did heroin anyway. John Leif lost his life, but I did not. Why?

The Trang’s are deeply religious, spiritual people, whose beliefs guide them through life’s joys and sorrows. I have witnessed the power of their faith as it illuminates the space around them wherever they go. As for me, the question of “why?” has no answer. Why him, and not me? Why should I be so lucky? Why couldn’t he have been saved? Why should the Trang’s be the ones with broken hearts, while I get to sing and dance with my parents today, almost 12 years since I used a syringe? Neither my belief system nor my experience of life has provided any kind of reason. It is part of the great mystery. To me, the question itself is where the lesson resides: be grateful. Appreciate life’s beautiful moments and be present when life is challenging.

Through knowing the Trang’s, I remind myself to feel ALL my feelings without trying to numb, distract, or turn to harmful habits. I am deeply connected to the Trang family because of our shared experiences. My life is enriched because of them, and I keep John Leif in my meditations.

Mattea Tampio

Dis-Couraged or En-Couraged?

Discouragement is the opposite of having the heart, the courage to face something. It’s when the heart has been sucked out of you. But the en in encouragement means “into”, the process of putting courage into someone. Giving them the heart and hope to go on.

(Translation into most languages at tab to the right.)

It’s time for a confession. I have not been writing many blogs for Opiate Nation in the past two years – not because I haven’t had time but because I have felt discouraged. Decades into the Opioid Epidemic and all the information and media coverage, the hope that addiction and deaths from drug overdoses would decrease has proven unfounded. It seems that people in general are just tired of hearing about it, especially if it doesn’t particularly concern them. And I have felt that I didn’t have anything helpful to add to the conversation and wondered: what more needs to be said?

But I felt reprimanded in my heart and soul for being one more person who is fatigued by the persistence of a problem that seems to never get better, let alone go away. What about all the people living in active addiction? And what about their friends and family who spend sleepless nights and anxious days worried about them? And what of those who have lost loved ones to addiction and are living in debilitating grief?

I started thinking about discouragement and how to “snap out of it”? For me, there is no snapping out of it on my own. Once I’m dis-couraged, I have found that only being en-couraged changes things. And encouragement usually comes to me through two avenues: a few intimate friends and God, both of whom know me well. The words spoken out loud by friends and the ones directly into my soul by God are what lift my troubled and discouraged heart and bring hope and courage.

Courage comes from Latin cor meaning “heart”. The dis in discouragement means “opposite of”. Discouragement is the opposite of having the heart, the courage to face something. It’s when the heart has been sucked out of you. But the en in encouragement means “into”, the process of putting courage into someone. Giving them the heart and hope to go on.

Although my life has not been characterized by addiction personally, encouragement has been important in my life, especially after my son died from addiction. How much more important would encouragement be to those struggling with addiction? And for the families and loved ones of those struggling or already lost? And how can we encourage without enabling?

So, I have been reminded of the importance of an encouraging word. Knowing this, how can I offer encouragement in the arena of addiction and Harm Reduction? Although people do recover from addiction and live full lives, there will always be people struggling with addiction and using drugs. When we acknowledge and accept this, we must try our best to help minimize the harm from that use in the ways we can. For me, that has been through writing to offer information, comfort, and encouragement.

Death: Painful or Beautiful?

(Translation into most languages at tab to right)

My husband and I recently watched the streaming memorial service for his niece who died of cancer at 51 years old. Her mother, husband, children, sister and extended family all mourning the inescapable truth that there is now a gaping hole in their hearts and lives where once a beautiful woman had lived. She has been torn from their lives like when a thief grabs a bag from your hand and you struggle and try to hang on to it but, in the end, it’s gone. Weeping is the only thing that feels appropriate.

Although it’s been nine years since our son JL died from an accidental heroin overdose, the sense of him being torn away from us remains. Whether it was the death of our son, my siblings, our parents, or friends, the undeniable fact remains that death is painful. Almost always painful for the person dying, especially with a protracted illness or debilitating condition. But always painful for those left to live with the empty space where the person they knew and loved used to reside. We will never forget the Sherriff’s knock at our door that Saturday morning and hearing him say, “I’m sorry to have to tell you…”

We all naturally focus on our loved one’s beautiful life and the memories we have of them. This is only right and good. And there can be beauty in the way someone dies – this I have seen, and this has been recorded throughout history. Regardless of the kind of death – whether by illness, accident, torture, or plain old age – history tells us about those who have faced pain and death with grace. How? Because they saw beyond this world and had hope for life in the next.

What I bristle against is the thought that death is somehow beautiful. There is nothing beautiful about the tearing away and finality of death. Sentimental and romanticized thoughts about death have never helped me when I have had to stare into the cold face of a dead loved one. I have watched people facing the intense and unpredictable emotions after the death of a loved one as they try to make sense of something senseless. Those who have no hope of seeing their loved one again and who do not have the hope of existence in another realm, often try to transform death into something else – as if the only way to survive their pain is to imbue death itself with beauty. Or perhaps attempt to ignore it altogether.

For me, I believe that there is a good God who will one day put this world back to the way he created it. In my view, death and the tearing separation and sadness that accompany it are a temporary condition of living in a fallen world. We are told that death is an enemy and that one day it will be abolished. Yet, knowing I will see my son and siblings and parents and beloved friends again one day, where there will be no more sickness or pain or tears, doesn’t change the sorrow and grief that I feel now. I am a mortal living in a physical body in a physical world facing real physical triumphs and tragedies. And until this life is over and this world is made new, death will be painful. Our response to pain, suffering, and death is what concerns us now. And comforting those who mourn and offering compassion, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their death, is something tangible that does not minimize or romanticize the pain of death.

UPDATE:

This morning, August 2nd, I just happened to find and listen to an affirming podcast on Hope In The Face of Death by Dr. Timothy Keller. It is well worth the 40 minutes of your time. He says what I am trying to communicate more eloquently and thoroughly.

https://podcast.gospelinlife.com/e/hope-in-the-face-of-death/

Unwelcome Reminders & Another Anniversary

(Translation into most languages at tab to the right)

“We were trying, all of us, so hard, and he just wanted to live.” (1)

Ursula Rauh said this about her brother, Tommy, after his death from a fentanyl overdose and a dozen stints in rehab in ten years. He became addicted to Oxy’s at 23 after being prescribed an unlimited amount for tendinitis and a year later, another prescription for wisdom teeth extraction. Sam Quinones retells the family story in The Least of Us: True Tales of America and Hope in the Times of Fentanyl and Meth. “The tragedy wasn’t just the death of her brother; it was all the time, effort, love, and pain that the family traversed, the hoping and living for the smallest encouragement.” (1)

When my husband, John, and I returned from Australia in May, we decided that we needed to address the decades of files we had saved and ‘stuff’ we had accumulated and ‘stuffed’ away in closets. We have shredded and recycled dozens of boxes of documents, cleared out half the books in our library, and now I have moved on to scanning and sorting thousands of photos. While I was pulling bins of photos and albums out of closets, I came upon a few more file bins. I sighed out loud to John, “Oh boy…more of JL’s file’s I’d forgotten about.”

Learning Compassion

(Translation into most languages at tab to the right.)

The other day, I was thinking back over the tragic deaths of many of my family members. And I thought about how I felt towards people a few decades ago when they suffered various illnesses or struggled with disease or addiction. I didn’t have much compassion because I hadn’t ever experienced those types of painful and heart-wrenching needs myself or in anyone I loved.

But in 2000, when my younger brother was in intensive care for two months on a ventilator and in a coma, I began to learn about the sorrow and desperation that hover around situations like this – for the one who is ill and for those who love them and who cannot do a thing to help or change the outcome. His diagnosis of HIV/AIDS and slow but impending death broke my heart – maybe for the first time in my life.

What Would They Say?

(Short topical blog based on Opiate Nation – translation into most languages in tab on right.)

August 2^nd is the seventh anniversary of our son’s death. JL died of a heroin overdose in the early morning hours of that Saturday in 2014. He was 25 years old.

In 2020 alone, 93,000 people died of drug overdoses in the USA – hundreds of thousands more worldwide. Millions in the past few decades. These were beloved daughters, sons, partners, parents, friends, relatives. I think I can confidently say they did not want to be addicted and if they could have turned back the clock to the time before they began using drugs, they would have.

Ghost Stories

(Short topical blogs based on Opiate Nation – translation into most languages in tab on right.)

When we hear the phrase “ghost stories” most of us think of scary and spooky stories shared around a campfire with the intended, and predicable, consequence of keeping us awake at night.

But when H Lee (aka Harris Insler) decided to call his new podcast series “These Ghosts Must Be Heard”, it wasn’t because he would be interviewing people with paranormal experiences. And although the stories his guests share aren’t scary in the ghoulish sense, they have kept their narrators awake at night for days, weeks, and months on end. John and I included. (To hear our interview with Harris, see links below for Podbean, Amazon, Spotify.)

https://theseghostsmustbeheard.podbean.com/

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/3392919b-b8bc-46b4-a486-5e34b7d8dd1d/episodes/580578a3-691f-418a-a179-8bc5f72dd138/these-ghosts-must-be-heard-episode-2-jl

These are real-life experiences and these “ghosts” are the spirits of our deceased loved ones: children, friends, partners who have succumbed to premature and preventable deaths from opioid overdoses.

Gilded Grief

(Short topical blogs based on Opiate Nation – translation into most languages in tab on right.)

While reading Rising Strong by Brené Brown, I was struck by a thought she shared about our American culture and the absence of honest conversation and the hard work it takes for us to rise strong after a fall on our face – a failure. She worries that “this lack of honesty about overcoming adversity has created a Gilded Age of Failure.”

Gilding is a perfect word-picture for this characteristically human behavior: applying a very thin coating of gold to a plain, inexpensive object that gives it the appearance of gold. This is what we do when we are dishonest about our feelings. We are choosing to make our real, plain, and common story appear better than it is.

“We’ve all fallen…but scars are easier to talk about than they are to show with all the remembered feelings laid bare…We much prefer stories about falling and rising to be inspirational and sanitized…We like recovery stories to move quickly through the dark so we can get to the sweeping redemptive ending.” (Rising Strong, Introduction)