I still mother them….

Tomorrow, We Lower the Flags

Tomorrow morning, we will lower the flags.

I have been thinking about that all day.

There is something about watching a flag come down that gets me every single time. Maybe because for just a moment, the world is being asked to stop and acknowledge that somebody is missing.

Tomorrow is International Overdose Awareness Day.

And tomorrow, across Delaware, the State flag will be lowered to half-staff.

That matters to me.

Because the people we lost to overdose have spent far too many years being reduced to numbers.

Statistics.

Charts.

Reports.

Numbers that go up. Numbers that go down. Numbers that politicians and professionals talk about at meetings and conferences.

But I don’t see numbers.

I see faces.

I see Vincent.

And this year, for the first time, I see Gabriella too.

I see the people whose pictures families carry to Overdose Awareness Day. I see the names on our impact signs. I see the moms who can tell you exactly how many years, months and days it has been. I see the dads who don’t always say very much. I see the brothers, sisters, grandparents, children and friends who learned how to live in a world that kept moving after somebody they loved stopped being here.

And I think about the people who aren’t counted anywhere.

The death certificate might say something different. Maybe their substance use contributed to their death but wasn’t the official cause. Maybe they died from something that happened after years of struggling. Maybe their family never talks about how they died at all.

They still matter.

Their lives count even if they aren’t counted in the statistics.

That is one of the reasons tomorrow means so much to me.

A flag at half-staff is normally something we associate with people our country or our communities have decided deserve to be publicly mourned.

Tomorrow, the people we lost to overdose are being publicly mourned too.

Think about that.

For so long, families were expected to whisper about these deaths. Addiction carried shame. Overdose carried shame. Families changed obituaries because they were afraid of what people would think.

Tomorrow there is no whispering.

The flags are coming down.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00, I will stand with County Executive Marcus Henry as we lower the flags in New Castle County.

And I know exactly who I will be thinking about.

My son.

My daughter.

And thousands of other sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives, friends and people who were loved far beyond whatever substance was in their body when they died.

I will also be thinking about the people who are still here.

The people in recovery.

The people struggling today.

The families who still have a chance to get a different phone call, a different ending, another birthday, another Christmas, another completely ordinary Tuesday together.

Because Overdose Awareness Day isn’t only about death.

It is also about what we do with what we have learned from all of this loss.

We carry Narcan.

We talk about substance use disorder without shame.

We connect people to resources.

We keep showing up.

We say their names.

And we keep reminding people that behind every overdose statistic is a human being.

So tomorrow, if you are driving through Delaware and notice a flag lowered, I hope you look at it for an extra second.

Take a picture.

Say a name.

Remember somebody.

And if you have never lost someone to overdose, be grateful that you don’t have a name immediately come to mind.

Tomorrow, the flags will fly lower.

But the people they represent deserve to be remembered loudly.

For Vincent.

For Gabriella.

For every single person whose chair is empty.

And for every person still here fighting for another day.

Tomorrow, we remember them all.

💜