It’s a beautiful day outside today. The sun is shining, people are out ice fishing, sledding, skiing, walking and having fun. Winter is long – so long, up here in the north that we take advantage of every perfect day that we can. I have come back from my Sunday walk with my dog and feel refreshed, ready to go and tackle the world again.
When I look out at the world, now though, I see it through different eyeballs than I once did. I appreciate more things did but I still struggle with some things. That is true for many of us, I believe. Suicide leaves us with so many unanswered questions and it takes such a frigging long time to make peace with ourselves. But by making baby steps, I can see the slow growth and progress. Keep trying to go forward and get back up each time I fall down.
This brings me to the point that I have decided to talk about today. It doesn’t matter whether you agree with me or not, it is part of my own journey. I have to find a way to live in the same town with those people who I believe were partly responsible for my son’s death. Yep, it’s true. Since Ryan’s death, I have talked publicly about what happened and about my trying to find out what happened. It took a few years but I knew that eventually pieces of the puzzle would come together. And they are. No, I will never know the whole story because Ryan is not here to tell it to me but at least, I can find some closure in knowing more of the story.
The biggest shock to me when he died was the fact that he had been using drugs and that he overdosed on cocaine. I’ve talked about that a lot, till I’m blue in the face. I couldn’t figure out how he started using drugs and how he hid it from me.
When one of Ryan’s friends was charged with trafficking, I finally figured it out. He had told me that he knew nothing of Ryan’s drug use. I never believed that because someone had to know something and most likely friends who were with him all the time would know of something. (I also know which friends truly cared about him and still do.)
He was found guilty of trafficking but given a conditional sentence. A conditional sentence means that a bunch of conditions were put on him but he never had to serve any jail time. I think if this was Texas, he’d be sitting in a prison for about 30 years.
I must say that I do not feel hatred to these people. That has left me but I still feel resentment when I see him/them and I can never see Ryan again. I know and understand and truly believe that Ryan is ultimately responsible for the decision that he made on that night but I also believe that his friend, who he trusted and admired and looked up to, had a very big influence on Ryan’s drug use. It’s kinda obvious now. I just hope that he can not do this to another young person in my community.
So having said all that, I will leave it to rest for now. This blog is not about hatred, it’s about healing and moving on which is what I am trying to do since I might have another 40 years on this planet.