3-18-25

So I know it’s been quite a while since my last post, and let me tell you, I have been emotional! Recently, I found myself having a moment so filled with anger and frustration that I could hardly contain it. Can you believe it’s getting close to 24 months since Jai has been gone? In all this time, I had not genuinely allowed myself to feel that deep-seated rage until now. I even found myself yelling at my husband—something I absolutely never do. Grief is one of those wild, twisting rides where you just don’t know how you will feel from day to day, which can be terribly exhausting. It’s as if I’m stuck in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to let myself enjoy even a moment of happiness, because I constantly feel this heavy guilt that Jai should be right here with us, sharing in all these experiences together. I miss him dearly, and I also long for the carefree version of myself from before. The truth is, I am not the same person I once was, and deep down, I know I never will be again. Despite the heartache, I recognize that I still have a precious daughter who needs me, and I must strive to be the best version of myself for her. Yet, each day feels like an uphill battle, and I can’t help but feel that it’s not fair. I just don’t understand why life has to be this way. Why did Jai decide to take that fateful pill that cost him his life? It’s a question that I keep wrestling with, and I know I need to try to let it go because the answers may forever elude me. Just like I will never know where he got those pills from. My heart will be forever altered, and I fear I will never fully heal from the loss of my beloved son.

2/16/25

So I know it’s been quite a while since I have posted anything new and shiny for you all to read, but honestly, I have not had the motivation to write anything at all, like, at all, for what feels like eons. Since the holidays I have been struggling significantly with keeping my mental health in check. I also recently ventured back into the working world again. It’s just part-time but even that can feel overwhelming at times. I really don’t know if this persistent brain fog will ever dissipate and its driving me crazy. The 22nd is approaching faster than a rollercoaster ride zooming down its first drop, and I keep thinking of all the things I wish we could have joyfully done together and all the dreams that Jai should be pursuing in his exciting adult life. My heart feels more shattered and broken than ever; it's like time isn’t helping at all, just standing there laughing in the corner while chaos reigns. No, I’m not learning to live with the grief, maybe because I just don’t want to learn to live with it as everyone keeps telling me I absolutely should. All I truly want is my son back, right here with me, where he belongs. I won’t keep this website up much longer either. It initially helped me at first, but now it feels less comforting.

I am still here

So, I know it’s been quite a while since I even ventured onto the website, and I have to admit, it feels like an eternity. The holidays can be so incredibly tough sometimes, can’t they? I really want to be genuinely happy for everyone and their families, celebrating all their joyous little moments, but a part of me feels an overwhelming sadness and, honestly, I guess I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself since Jai simply wasn’t here to share those precious moments with us. We did manage to go to New Mexico, and during our time there, I found myself attempting new things that I would normally shy away from like a nervous turtle, but this time I was feeling adventurous! I did this because I know Jai would have absolutely loved every single second of it if he were there with us, probably cheering me on like the biggest fan. I guess you could say a part of me was living for him in those moments, trying to keep his spirit alive in my heart. But then, reality hit like a cold wave when I had to come back home, and it felt like a heavy weight, like a giant boulder pressing down on me; I was so profoundly consumed by sadness. How can I find happiness without him by my side, my supportive little shadow? I am still learning to navigate this life without him, and it feels like quite a monumental challenge, something akin to climbing a mountain with no gear. It’s so hard—my mind always pictures Jai getting married, having little kids to dote on and call his own, but now I find myself watching his friends experience those joys instead, and it’s just so heartbreakingly bittersweet. With Jai’s anniversary approaching in just 5 months, my brain is running like a hamster on a wheel, frantically trying to come up with something truly special that I can do for him. Of course, it absolutely needs to be special, because this is all for my baby boy, and he truly deserves all the love and tribute in the world.

Short and Sweet

It’s been a while since I wrote on my blog , but now that the holidays are upon us, I find myself really struggling with this whirlwind of emotions. I miss everything about Jai—his laughter, his smile, the way he would light up a room just by being in it. It makes my heart so sad that he is missing out on life’s little moments, but then I try to remind myself that he is, in a way, still part of it. I mean, he’s up there with the good Lord, surely playing the guitar and basking in a peaceful, joyful existence. So, maybe I’m being a bit selfish for wishing he could still be right here with me. In an effort to cope with my grief, I decided to take on a creative project: I’m making Jai a beautiful memory tree and adorning it with everything he loved and cherished in life. So far, it’s keeping my hands busy and my heart hopeful, and I feel a sense of comfort in knowing I’m keeping his memory alive. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I know not many people read my blog, but if there happen to be a few of you out there, could you please send me a little "Hi" to let me know you’re with me in spirit? I’ll definitely be back in a couple of days, ready to write some more and share my journey. .

17 months already

These two days of the month are so incredibly hard, it feels as though time is playing some sort of cruel trick. It’s so unreal that a whole 17 months have already slipped away like sand through my fingers. I think about all the things that my son Jai has missed out on. Today all I want to do is stay nestled in my cozy pajama pants, stretching out on the sofa, perhaps indulging in the same routine tomorrow. Of course, a little voice in my head is gently urging me to get up and embrace my inner strength. At least I can remind myself that I am experiencing some truly good days, and that’s a silver lining I hold onto tightly. This roller coaster of a ride is such an emotionally draining endeavor, like riding a mechanical bull at a county fair that just won’t quit. I’ve got some exciting new things percolating in the works, though! Tomorrow, I have a team meeting to brainstorm ways to introduce Narcan distribution boxes in the vibrant city of San Antonio, where I currently reside. After that, I’ll be planning to do the same in Louisiana. When I embark on these missions, I can almost feel Jai right there by my side, guiding me through the challenges. The Locks for Lockport event had a splendid turnout that really warmed my heart. I have no doubt that as time moves forward, even more locks will be added to that fence, symbolizing hope and resilience. We distributed vital information on fentanyl and handed out loads of Narcan, too. I am overflowing with gratitude for everyone who showed up, especially the amazing Mayor Barry Plaisance, for making this important event possible.

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Hello! I am not even sure if anyone reads this besides Jai’s incredibly supportive Nana, but sometimes it just helps to write, whether or not it’s actually read really does not matter, I guess. I know it's been a little while since I last wrote anything down. I have not been up to doing much lately—life has felt pretty slow. I am still working on my shirts, and let me tell you, it is taking way longer than I thought it would be to get the hang of using the Cricut machine, but I am confident that I will find my groove soon.

Anyways, I recently read about this new drug that they are calling “pink cocaine.” From what I gathered, it says that it will be worse than fentanyl, which is honestly mind-boggling and concerning, considering how incredibly dangerous and deadly fentanyl already is. If you have any information on this topic, please share your thoughts with me. I am ready and eager to dive into more projects aimed at raising awareness about the horrible realities of fentanyl poisoning. If anyone has anything planned or simply wants to brainstorm ideas together, please reach out to me! I am more than willing to help in any way I can.

As far as the grief goes, it remains a mix of good days, bad days, and I am starting to experience a few angry days as well. Up until now, I haven’t really gone through the angry, mad emotions, but over the last week, I can feel myself steadily sliding in that direction. I just have so many unanswered questions that I will likely never know the answers to. More specifically, I really want to know who sold my son that fake Xanax. I know it doesn’t change the tragic outcome, but it would provide some kind of comfort knowing there’s a chance that person could be held accountable for their actions.

I still can’t get into his phone, and while I am aware that there are things, as a mother, I don’t want to know or see, I would love to just get a glimpse of the last few text messages and the videos he must have saved of him playing the guitar. But, enough about that for now. The holidays are creeping up on us fast, and honestly, I’m not ready for that emotional storm. All I want is nothing more than to wrap my arms around my precious baby boy and tell him just how much I love him.

I survived another week

This week was undeniably rough, but then again, it feels like every week throws a curveball my way. This time around, I actually had the nerve to do two school presentations, which was both exciting and terrifying all at once. It was my very first adventure into public speaking, and let me tell you, I was beyond nervous. Speaking to a large crowd is no easy task, especially when it’s a bunch of lively 8th graders! I managed to get through my first presentation, but oh, the second one was a complete train wreck—I bombed it in ways that would make a comedic opera seem like a masterpiece. I just couldn’t hold it together like I had hoped. I shared Jai’s story with all my heart, but afterward, I was a complete emotional disaster. I found myself so overwhelmed I couldn’t quite finish saying all that was on my mind. However, the response from the students was nothing short of incredible! A few students even sought me out afterward to share their own situations and experiences, allowing me to delve deeper into Jai's story. I collected a treasure trove of hugs, too! Who knew that being so emotional would let those kids witness something so raw, like the real pain of a mother who lost her son to fentanyl poisoning? If by sharing Jai’s story, I can save even one life and show that he was a real person, just like everyone else, then I truly believe I am making a difference and honoring Jai’s memory in the process.

A Cure For My Tragedy

Today marks a poignant 16 months gone by. Where does the time go, honestly? It feels like just yesterday, yet my heart aches just the same, as if it's perpetually holding onto a heartache that refuses to fade. This tragedy must have a profound reason behind it, right? How can you be here one minute, radiating life and laughter, and then not be here the very next? Is this profound lesson intended for me to uncover my true purpose in life? Or perhaps, is the lesson not mine to learn at all? Is what I’m saying even making sense in the grand scheme of things? So many questions bubble up inside me, yet I find myself drowning in a sea of uncertainty with no answers in sight. I pray that God will help me find that elusive peace and comfort someday, but will that hopeful someday ever truly arrive? I desperately need a cure for this overwhelming tragedy that has unfolded. The whirlwind of emotions leaves me feeling like I’m sea sick, tangled in the relentless waves of despair. The waves just keep crashing down onto me, and I feel as though I can’t breathe, like I’m drowning in this sorrow and completely alone. Yet, amidst this storm, I think of Jai and how incredibly strong of a person he was. He always believed in pushing forward, urging me with his gentle yet fierce spirit to "come on, ma, get up and fight, keep swimming through the waves, and you will come out on top." I refuse to let this devil of a drug, fentanyl, win this battle. I will keep telling Jai’s story—our story—so that other parents and children out there will be informed and educated about this harsh reality! I will always be Jai’s ever-loving mom. I love and miss him so deeply, with every ounce of my being.

Lost as day one

Today, I sit here in this strangely quiet room, and I think about how I am just as lost and confused as I was on that first devastating day when I found out that Jai, my beloved son, was gone. How is it possible that he can be right here in my life one moment, full of laughter and plans, and then simply vanish into thin air the next? He was healthy, cheerful, and seemed to have so much life ahead of him. I knew he had some battles to face, but he had a remarkable ability to overcome so much. My mind is swirling with countless questions that will forever remain unanswered, and somehow, I have to learn to live with that heavy reality. How can a mother simply carry on day by day without knowing the reasons why? That is the profound struggle, the daunting battle, that I am left to confront. I had been looking forward to attending my son’s best friend's baby shower, a joyous occasion that should have filled my heart with warmth, but I just could not find the strength within myself to go. I wanted those beautiful moments for my Jai, moments that I know he would have cherished deeply. I remind myself, one day at a time, one minute, even one second at a time. You get tired of hearing those comforting phrases, but somehow, in the back of your mind, you just know it to be achingly true.

In My Grief

I’m not a writer, but I wanted to start a blog to help other parents and myself cope with grief. It’s been 16 months since my son Jai passed away from fentanyl poisoning. People said time would make it easier, but for me, it feels harder. I miss his voice, his laughter, and the way he played guitar. I can still picture him running down the stairs to hang out. I talk to him every day and can’t go to the store without buying something for him. Recently, my daughter Kelsey and I went to Hobby Lobby, and I got Jai two music decorations for his room, knowing he’d probably laugh and say, "What are you doing, Ma?" He never liked taking pictures, yet I share them everywhere. He was easy-going, loved life, nature, and was an incredible guitarist. He could play anything he heard after just one listen.

When I grieve, I often laugh at our memories. Though not all moments were perfect, the amazing ones make me wish for those days back, to see his baby blue eyes again. I didn’t realize his struggles ran so deep, and I wish he could have experienced marriage, kids, or even just dating. I believe he’s with me, and I’ll keep his light alive in my heart. I promise to make him proud, showing my strength and knowing it would make him smile. Until we reunite, I’ll strum your guitar those sweet nothings and make you laugh. Peace be with Jai. I’ll love you forever, my sweet child!