OPIUM: UBIQUITOUS THEN AND NOW

When I was in Melbourne, Australia recently with our family, I was starkly reminded of the ubiquitous presence of opium in the past as well as the present. Not that I can ever really forget it’s demon-like presence. But when I am asked what I do and I respond that I am a new author, the next question is what my book is about. After I give a short description, I am always surprised at how many people have stories of their own involving this ancient plant – a plant that truly offers humankind a double-edged sword. It can so wondrously relieve pain when our bodies have been injured or undergone surgery. Yet it has a mysterious way of latching on to a large percentage of we mortals who, having once legitimately used this soothing balm, then find the memory of that bliss like an oasis in the desert that we chase after at all cost.

Within a week, I heard three stories. One seems like something out of another era. A 60-yr old man, after hearing about our son and Opiate Nation, began to tell me about his years growing up in Singapore. He explained that both his mother and his father were addicted to opium and would regularly go to the opium dens to smoke. He remembers the intoxicating smell when he would go to find them to use the opportunity of their being in a blissful state to get money from them. He never wanted to use that drug or any other.Melbourne, Australia

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The Ghosts of Grief

My husband and I just returned from a long trip – away from our home, away from all the reminders of our son’s life and death. One would think that being ‘away’ from those physical cues would minimize, or even alleviate, the consistent thoughts and feelings of our now-absent loved one. But it doesn’t.

I don’t know whether that is something to lament or cherish. I find both emotions surface at alternate times. What did strike me while we were away – away with our daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters having lots of fun and constantly occupied – was that as soon as I had a moment alone and still, my son returned to center stage.

And it reminded me of a friendly ghost – those ones I grew up seeing in old cartoons and movies – the ones that continued to visit their loved ones and prompt them to do something, or help relieve them of guilt, or reassure them of their love.

What made me especially think of this connection was that I found myself saying inside “Not now – I don’t want to think about you now – it’s too emotionally draining, and I need to stay in the present with those I can actually love and be with now.” And, surprisingly, I find that I am able to push the memories and sense of his presence aside. The ‘ghost’ vanishes, at least temporarily. This is definitely a progression in grief. For the first year or two after JL’s death, I was not emotionally able to make this choice. Many times I was physically present with those around me but emotionally re-living some moment from the past.

It causes me to wonder if the real reason I am now taking this step is to avoid pain and if so, does that pain mean I have unfinished business with my son’s death? I’ve thought much about this and believe that is not the reason. It is more just avoiding the pain that surfaces with reminders of my son and a life cut short. And I think that pain will always be present because death, although it is our common fate, is not how things should be. I believe we are beings who were created for unending life and everything in me longs for the actual reunion I will someday have with my son, whatever that may look like.

I never want to lose the sense of my son’s presence, and the reminders of his life. So, I’m OK with the occasional ‘ghost’ appearing in my mind, even at inconvenient times, and accept it as part of the cost of life, love, and death.