16 years of fun family 4th of July memories will forever be cherished - neighborhood parades, baseball tournaments, Carolina Impact Cherry Park picnics, beach fire works, lakes, Carowinds - you name it, we did it. I try my hardest to focus on these happy memories, but recency of experience is a bitch - July 4, 2021 still replays in my head.
Hud, Sophie and I had just come back from HHI - kayaking, walking on the beach, going to Harbour Town, eating at fav HHI restaurants. It was the best I'd seen Hud since Kelly's death. He was 9 months sober and I was so happy to see him being a normal teenager again. Well, as normal as Hud could be - he just had a totally different spin on life - which is why so many people loved him!
The day after we got back was the 4th - and plans changed last minute, so we didn't go anywhere. I was asleep at 11:00 pm when Madelyn came into my room sobbing hysterically - could hardly understand her. Her father had called and said to come quick - Hud had overdosed and EMS was at his house. We ran out of the house and pulled up to a firetruck, ambulance and 3 sheriff's cars. The door was open and I ran up the stairs and saw Hud in the room where he played Xbox. I repeatedly asked if he had a pulse, and the officer would not answer, and would not let me in the room. It felt like 10 years but one of the paramedics in the room finally said "got a pulse." 3 Narcans to get a pulse, but he was alive. They carried Hud mostly unconscious down the stairs in what looked like a body bag to the ambulance. I followed them to the ER and when I found him he was vomiting blood. The doctor told me that Hud had been crying for me in the ambulance. When he arrived he was at 40% oxygen and the doctor said he was beyond lucky to be alive. Hud told Madelyn to leave - he didn't want her to see him like that. He then looked at the doctor and nodding towards me, in classic Hud style said "you might want to make her leave too - if you don't, she's going to kill me!" He always made me smile - even at our lowest of lows.
He was in ICU for 5 days, 2 more days in regular recovery, and was so somber. Hardly spoke. Depressed beyond depressed. Embarrassed. "I almost died" he told me. You did die, I told him. You just got lucky. Felt sure we had hit the "proverbial low" and that we would finally be done with addiction. What I learned is that with addiction, you watch your kid die countless times. So many "near misses." And at times when you expect to have a coroner ringing your doorbell to tell you your son didn't make it, he gets a "get out of jail" free card. But then when you least expect it, you lose the first heartbeat you ever gave life to. And no 4th, or any holiday, can ever be the same. Doesn't mean holidays will all be sad, or this will always be the memory that comes to mind. It's just a harsh reality that you can't comprehend unless you've lost a child. Or sibling. Heavy blogs/posts are generally not well received on social media. Just hoping that posting my truths helps prevent them from becoming another family's truths.
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