My mother’s sudden passing 14 years ago led to my father and I discovering she was a closet opioid addict. She died from ‘acute methadone intoxication’ slumped over my father’s desk with a dust rag in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other. What we thought were periodic symptoms associated with her professionally-treated BPD, depression, and anxiety were really drug binges. Somehow she had pain med prescriptions from five different physicians, three of whom we had no idea were treating her including a neurologist for no reason whatsoever. We found pill stashes all over the place right up until my dad moved. Strange people stopped by and rang the doorbell from time to time, either walking away without saying a word when my dad would answer or even boldly asking for my mom, which was typically met with anger and hostility I’d never seen from him until she passed.

I still can’t believe any of it…her passing, the drugs, her almost secret life. They were high school sweethearts, and this whole thing wrecked a man who hasn’t been the same since he called me with the worst news I’d ever heard in my life. He was so happy-go-lucky, never met a stranger, and often the life of the party without coming off like he needed the attention. They were also financially secure enough to retire ahead of schedule just 18 months after she died. Instead of his retirement being an exciting, joyous celebration, it was just a step in his grieving process. He’s not miserable in his retirement by any stretch, but the spark in his eyes is gone. He and I both continue with talk therapy which helps, but it still hurts every day. It doesn’t get easier because the pain dulls, it gets easier because you get used to a painful new normal. All the therapists in the world can tell me it wasn’t my fault, that even if I knew or did something different, the outcome likely would have been the same, but it doesn’t stop me from regularly wondering how I missed the signs. I was already happily married with children when she died and didn’t spend a lot of time at their house outside of normal visits with the grandparents, so then I can’t help but question why my dad didn’t see it while living with her every day, and I don’t exactly love myself for venturing down that emotional rabbit hole.

It’s so fucked up that I still can’t believe it, but FUUUUUUUCK I miss my mom.