Let me tell you about my heart, my son, my Morgan.  He showed up early!  Couldn’t wait to come into the world, was a month and a day ahead- full lush hair,  open and alert eyes, almost 7 pounds.  In his hospital striped blanket “first picture”, he is curious and eager, a perfect little fist held up, ready for anything.

He was the most ardently wanted baby imaginable- a leap of faith for his father, a mission for me, his mother- my only child.  I knew I needed to give him all the Good I could and as much as possible, he nursed for a year and a half until he started working his teeth!  A total delight- as an infant and as a toddler and as a child, he took to everything quickly- the ASL sign for “Pain”, picking up longer words when I read to him at night, the way he was with various pets- a Fox terrier and assorted cats- and how they clearly adored him.

When we moved to the Greenville area from Western NY I was rather perplexed by the fact that I couldn’t take him grocery shopping without someone chucking his cheek and ruffling his hair, wanting to “give him some sugar”.  We both got used to it, yet he drew all kinds of people to him.  He had a pile of curly blond hair, eyes like blueberries, ridiculously long lashes- I knew I had to be extra protective of him.   

It was an opportunity to gently teach about social interactions and expectations, the ephemeral nature of “looks” and the necessity of developing character and one’s own moral code.  Regarding the actions of others, I held firmly to what I learned from my Mom- it doesn’t matter what the “Others” do, it only matters what You do.  And I truly believed that would take, that I had that kind of influence on him.

And that’s not what happened.

Despite my many efforts, my cautionary words, the ravages of what he himself could see in his own life from his father’s relapse and degradations of friends and family members around him- peer pressure and his own enormous curiosity moved him into the shallows like a starfish with one bad arm.

Back and forth we went- never a great student: “I’m an Auditory Learner, Mom”- Oh, Okay!  And this was true, but friends getting high on pot and wanting to share it was also true.  I got him into the STAR Academy here which had a wonderful student/teacher ratio, was project and goal-oriented, and had a dress code (4 colors of polo shirts, 2 colors for pants), and a number of ex-military in the faculty.  He cried when I left him there that first day but he couldn’t wait to get back for the second.  He thrived there like a finally watered plant.  Maybe this would Take?

He managed to graduate High School, made friends easily (sometimes way too easily), had girlfriends and fishing buddies and we hoped for the best.  He got into video gaming- like what guy doesn’t, but his gamer handle had “dealer” in it.  Maybe we should have questioned that.  He got rigged up by someone he trusted, that he looked up to.  He worked for various and sundry places and finally landed painting for his dad- and some days all was well and some days things were clearly not. He had a serious girlfriend for a few short years who couldn’t stop him using, and then found a new girlfriend who used too.

He had been to multiple recovery facilities by the time he ODed, been busted and bonded, lawyers involved.  He did well in some places and not so great in others.  Perhaps what we can do for him now is find a way to provide that which worked for him, and do what we can to mitigate the harms that don’t work for anyone.  Morgan leaves that legacy, we pray- and a young son, Kai.  

There is work to do.