Angry Moms

If you don’t know one yet, you will

These are the mothers whose sons’ and daughters’ obituaries you read in the local newspaper.

Joe could light up a room just by his smile.  He loved hiking and fishing.  He leaves behind his parents, grandparents, girlfriend Jill and his loving dog Bo. There will be a celebration of his life at…..

 And just like dandelions gone to seed in spring, these young people are gone.

I probably don’t qualify as an angry mom.  My son has been in long-term recovery for nearly six years, a fact for which I am profoundly grateful.  But this doesn’t mean I don’t feel rage and unmitigated sorrow when I read these obituaries.

I am angry each time my son texts me another picture of a beautiful young woman found dead in her room, leaving a wreckage of heartbroken family and friends.

I am angry each time a mother stands at a graveside and stares as her son’s coffin is lowered into the ground.

I am angry watching a father mask his sorrow to help his wife and surviving children get through it.  Just get through it.

I am angry that every four minutes someone dies of an overdose in America – equal to a “911” tragedy every three weeks.

I am angry we are losing a whole generation of smart, talented young people.

And I am angry that it may get worse before it gets better.

There are 20 million Americans suffering with substance use disorder in our country.  That means millions more are suffering the effects of this disease.

I don’t know what else I can do.

But there has to be more.