I still mother them….

The Questions That Never Leave
Some nights are just harder than others.

The house is quiet, but my mind isn’t.

The questions start.

Were they scared?

Did they know what was happening?

Did they suffer?

What were their last thoughts?

Those are questions I’ll never have answers to.

The night before Vincent died, we talked. We laughed. It was just a conversation between a mom and her son.

For a long time, I couldn’t make sense of that.

I remember thinking, If he was laughing with me, why would he use?

I didn’t understand addiction then.

I didn’t understand that addiction doesn’t care if you’re having a good day. It doesn’t care if you’re laughing, making plans, or telling someone you love them. Addiction doesn’t wait until life falls apart. It’s a disease. It’s unpredictable. And it lies to the people who have it.

The next morning, his dad found him when he was getting ready for work.

I made his dad promise me something.

I told him that no matter how many times I asked, he could never tell me what Vincent looked like.

And I did ask.

More than once.

Part of me wanted to know every detail. Another part of me knew that once I heard it, I could never unhear it.

He kept his promise.

I’m grateful he did.

When Gab died, there were different questions, but the same disbelief.

I remember leaving the house while she was still inside. They were on the porch waiting to take her away.

I remember getting in my car and driving away.

I still can’t wrap my mind around that.

How could I be driving away while my daughter was still there?

That day still doesn’t make sense to me.

Maybe it never will.

As parents, we replay everything.

We wonder if we missed something.

We wonder if one more conversation, one more hug, one more chance could have changed the ending.

But there is one thing I never have to wonder about.

Both of my children told me they were grateful I never gave up on them.

Especially Gab.

She said it over and over again. She even wrote it in a card that sits on my dresser. Every now and then, I pick it up and read it.

“Thank you for never giving up on me.”

Those words have become my answer to all the questions I’ll never be able to answer.

Did they know they were loved?

Yes.

I don’t have to wonder.

They told me.

Did they know I fought for them?

Yes.

I don’t have to wonder.

They told me.

The questions still come.

I don’t think they’ll ever stop.

But these days, when they do, I try to spend less time thinking about the answers I’ll never have and more time holding on to the ones I already do.

They knew I loved them.

They knew I never stopped believing in them.

They knew I never gave up on them.

For a mom who has buried both of her children…

Some nights, that’s enough to quiet the questions.

Some nights, that’s enough to get me through. 💜