Isaac’s Story

 

Hello friend,

First, I would like to tell you I am so glad you are here! You have come to a place where love is present and judgement is obsolete. Second, I want to tell you that you are precious and loved. Never forget that!

My name is Jessica and I would like to share the story of my son Isaac. I want to share with you what it was like for me to know Isaac as his mother. Our relationship was unique, as mother and son relationships are. I was a young single mother when he came into this world. Some like to say that he and I grew up together. I like to think in some aspects that is true. Isaac taught me what it meant to truly love without bias. I knew that I loved him completely and against all odds and always would no matter what.

My son Isaac was beautiful. He was my tall, strong and handsome boy. He was one of the only people I had ever seen with a combination of red hair, kind brown eyes and no freckles. It always amazed me that he hated his looks because, to me, his unique beauty was mesmerizing.

Not only was he beautiful on the outside, he was beautiful on the inside. He had a love for people. He would give anyone the shirt off of his back, even if it left him without. He was a positive influence on many. People often reached out to me to tell me of ways that Isaac influenced them in positive ways. Isaac also loved animals. His kind spirit connected with them instantaneously. Isaac was our dog Moose’s best friend. Even after Isaac moved out of the house, Moose would light up as soon as he saw him. Isaac liked to cook, and he was good at it. He loved to make food. It was however, the one thing he did NOT like to share.

Isaac was funny. He loved to make people laugh. His favorite word for the longest time was swag. I honestly don’t even know what this word means. He would use the word excessively and in ways that made no sense. I think he probably said it about 500 times a day on average and for a time period of about two years. As an example: I would ask him how his day was and his answer would be…”swag”. I also found this word written in random places…like on nightstands…or bedframes or walls…To answer your question, yes, he was a teenager writing on walls…He was also resourceful, finding creative ways to have fun. I’m sure you think that sounds great. But, a parent, I was often ready to ring his neck. Once, he convinced his brothers and sisters that putting pledge on the vinyl floor would be a great idea as they could create a skating rink in the kitchen that only required them to wear socks. For two weeks I could not figure out why I kept slipping and falling every time I walked in the kitchen.

 

Isaac was always worried about upsetting others, particularly me.

He did upset me, or rather should I say, exasperate me often. This was mostly because he was a daredevil and never knew fear. Once he jumped off of his dad’s roof onto a trampoline. I’m sure you can guess the outcome. Isaac not only broke his leg, he mangled it. When I met him and his dad at the hospital, Isaac was in the backseat of his dad’s truck. I opened the door to see this kid with his leg shaped like a question mark. Here I am with my mouth wide open in shock, and this kid says, and I quote, “I’m so sorry mom! I’m so sorry, don’t be mad!” He really thought he was going to be in trouble! I couldn’t help but laugh. This was often the case with us. He was always worried about upsetting me and others. He always wanted to help people, not hurt them.

My son was talented and smart. He was the best video game player I had ever seen. When he was in seventh grade he played guitar hero on expert. For those of you that do not know, this was no easy task! He was just talented in everything he tried. Playing guitar, baseball, basketball, skateboarding cooking, drawing, you name it, he could do it. If he wanted to do it, it was going to happen.

Isaac was a hard worker. The summer he turned 16 he got a job with my company rehab crew. He made 10 dollars an hour which was huge for a 16-year-old kid at that time. I was so impressed with him because he took his very first check and handed it to me and said “Get me a phone and pay for the service for 6 months” I mean, what kid does that? He worked steadily through school and always took his work seriously.
My son loved Jesus. He met him when he was in his teens at a youth retreat and the Holy Spirit rocked his world. The Lord answered prayers that night that Isaac never thought possible. There were times along the road that Isaac wrote Jesus off. He always found his way back to him though.

“I am so glad you are here! You have come to a place where love is present and judgement is obsolete.”

I feel joy in my heart as I look at his posts on social media. He posted about God more often than not and when we spoke Isaac was more open about his love for the Lord nearing the end of his life. God knew that Isaac was coming home and he nourished that seed he had planted in Isaac’s heart all those years ago.
My son Isaac was my counterpart. We were so much alike that we rubbed each other the wrong way, sometimes like razorblades. In the same since, we knew we were each other’s right arm. We loved, fought, laughed and cried. We grew with each other. We helped each other. We hurt each other. We learned from each other. We saved each other. We made each other so angry and so happy. We helped each other. We loved each other. There was a point in life where it was just he and I, and in that time, our bond grew to be what it was and remained as strong until the day of his last breath. My grandmother always said that I was the only one that could calm him down, or talk sense into him. When he was going off the deep end, I was the one who would pull him back. She was right. He knew it and so did I. You see, Isaac was my first soulmate and I was his.

I want to share with you now about what Isaac endured over the last two years of his life, how Isaac lost who he was. If you’re here reading this, this part of his story may feel familiar to you. I share ALL of Isaac’s story and this part is just as important as the rest. One thing Isaac never did was hold back truth for politics. He never kept his struggles a secret and I know that he would want me share this with you and so I will. I believe that you and others need to hear this. Perhaps you are suffering. Perhaps a relative or love one of yours is, and they do not know where to turn. Please accept this portion of my letter with love as it is from a place of love for my son and those that suffer. You see, I loved my son, even in his disease.

 

My beautiful, kind, talented, funny, hardworking, loving son suffered from a disease called addiction.

My beautiful, kind, talented, funny, hardworking, loving son suffered from a disease called addiction. For him, for many, this disease is terminal. My son suffered. Yes, he was only 20 years old. Yes, he had his whole life ahead of him. Yes, he “made some bad decisions.” None of that matters. This disease, addiction, knows no age. This disease, addiction, considers no time. This disease, addiction, shatters and destroys good people with nothing more than a sweet whisper in the ear, “just this once”. This disease, addiction, is the devil’s weapon, one of his strongest silent warriors. So yes, my son succumbed to his disease.

While addiction has many faces and many different triggers for different people, my son’s addiction was nourished by drugs, most recently, most potently by heroin. Heroin changed my son’s life. All of those wonderful things I just told you about were stolen from my son by heroin and his addiction to it. Heroin killed my boy. Not at the end of his life, but years before. I lost my son to this drug long before he left this earth.

My son wanted very much to be clean and to stay clean. He hated his addiction. For those of us that are not addicts it is impossible for us to understand what it is like to continue to do to ourselves the one thing that is destroying us and to hate it while doing it; but this is what it is like for an addict. This is the life that they live, the hell that they live in. Perhaps you are living in this hell right now. There is hope though.

Isaac spent the last four months of his life in a wonderful rehabilitation community getting medication and treatment he needed for his disease. He did it because he wanted to and he flourished. For 4 months my son was Isaac again. He was vibrant, and fun and full of life. He smiled, he laughed, he had normal conversations and made good decisions. He learned in that program what he needed to learn to start his journey in recovery, which for him, was his self-worth. Finally, after all these years, my troubled sad loved boy had learned to love himself. He was recovering. He was getting it. He had a chance and a future. He was so excited and so happy and so proud that he was starting this new life sober.

 

It took one slip. Just one.

 

I can’t tell you when that slip was. I can’t tell you how long he was clean after leaving the program or getting off the medication. I cannot tell you the circumstances surrounding the slip. All I know is that my son, my beautiful strong recovering son made a choice to give into his disease again, and it cost him his life. He made a choice, one that he felt he was not strong enough to overcome. One that I knew he WAS strong enough to overcome. Today I live with my son’s memories close to my heart. That is all I have left until we meet again.

I am sure at this point you are wondering “where is the hope?” Keep reading. It is coming!

One day during his recovery Isaac had a bad day. He called me and told me that it was so bad that he had scored some heroin. He wanted to use so badly to ease the pain of the things he had endured that day. Along with the help of another friend in recovery, Isaac made a very rewarding but extremely difficult decision to throw the drugs he had scored into the ocean and not use. He made a decision that day to beat his disease. He made a decision to win. He was so happy, as was I, but he was also scared. He said to me, “Mom, what if I can’t do that again? What if I go back to the nightmare, what if I die?” I said to him. “You CAN do it again Isaac. Do it again, do it a million times. Choose life again. Choose life every day. Remember that you are loved and God carries you every day”.

This is the start of your new journey. Your new life! You CAN do it. You CAN choose life again, every day, a million times!

My Isaac wasn’t strong enough to make that choice again. That doesn’t mean that you or others are not. He made that choice once and so can others, so can you. If you are reading this today and you are struggling, please know that there is hope. You have come to the right place! This is the start of your new journey. Your new life! You CAN do it. You CAN choose life again, every day, a million times! There is hope and that hope is YOU! I am BEYOND proud of you. There is a light ahead. I am praying for you that you follow that light. That light is found in Jesus and in you.

I hope that Isaac’s story resonates with you and helps you or your loved one to take the steps to choose life. In honor of my son’s memory, I am praying for you and excited for you to overcome this disease. It is my hope that Isaac’s story will help save you and help save another mother from having to endure the pain that I have. Know that in spirit I am standing beside you fighting this war, in honor of my son.

I couldn’t save you Isaac. But I am going to keep fighting this disease for your honor. With God as my strength, I am going to fight for others. I love you sweetheart. Our battle isn’t over. You are free, and you live on in me.