Three days ago. Saturday at 7:22 a.m. I wake to this note delivered to our UAF inbox, from Reyna:
I lost two daughters to Fentanyl, my 21 yr old June 30 th 2018 and my 22 yr old June 16th 2023 which left behind a husband and two beautiful daughters, my heart is so broken.
Then I text my friend, Debbie to say I’m sorry. I just saw her post on Facebook:
Today is the day that I had both of my kids’ funerals. One in 2020 one in 2024.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
Two moms, each losing two children, each to fentanyl.
Sunday morning I wake to UAF state leader, Gretchin from Orlando, posting photo and text, again on Facebook:
Today would have been my beautiful son Gage’s 33rd birthday. 33 years. He should be here. He should be out living his life, laughing with his friends, celebrating, making memories, and enjoying every moment of the day. He should be blowing out candles and rolling his eyes and making that goofy, wide eyed face at me for making a big deal out of his birthday. But he’s not.
It has been three and a half years since he passed away, and it still feels like yesterday. The shock hasn’t faded. The reality of it is still jarring. The silence he left behind is still deafening. And I miss him more than words could ever possibly express. People say time makes it easier. For me, it hasn’t. Not by a long shot. If anything, it has gotten harder. Every birthday without him is another painful reminder of everything that was taken. Everything. Another year he didn’t get to live. Another year of wondering who he would have become, what he would be doing today, and what his life would look like. This is the stark reality I live with every single day.
Today, I’m praying that God gives me the strength to get through this day with grace. I’m praying that somehow, in ways we can’t see, he knows how deeply he is loved and how profoundly he is missed. I hope with all my heart that he is in heaven today, surrounded by my brother and all of our family who have gone before him, laughing, celebrating, and finally at peace.
Here on earth, we will celebrate him the best way we know how. We will honor his memory. We will speak his name. We will remember his smile, his spirit, and the love he brought into this world. For every day that passes here, is one day closer to being there with him. That is what I have to keep in the forefront of my mind in order to push through most days.
Please don’t take your children for granted. Don’t take your loved ones for granted. Life can change in an instant, and the people you love most are the greatest gift you will ever have.
Happy 33rd Birthday, Gage. I love you forever, baby. I love you beyond forever. And I will carry you with me for the rest of my life. Until my last breath…..and we are together again.
I then see another post seconds later. Again from UAF state leader, Gina from Phoenix:
It’s been exactly a year today since my beautiful baby girl got her wings
I can’t express in words how much I miss her. Desiray had such a fun personality, she was stubborn but loved deeply, she protected those she loved and would help anyone who needed it, she loved dogs and cats, so much so we almost had a zoo at my house when she was little. I used to call her Elmira lol.
Having my son, my husband and a piece of my daughter through her son and her dog has helped me so much. I pray my baby girl is at peace and having a grand time in heaven.
Forever in my heart my ladybug.
I carry you in everything I do. Until I see you again.
We’ve received over 3,000 letters like this since we launched UAF in 2024.
The National Institutes of Health released recently a massive summary on grief. The conclusion is that one kind of grief is greatest in terms of intensity and duration:
While bereavement is stressful whenever it occurs, studies continue to provide evidence that the greatest stress, and often the most enduring one, occurs for parents who experience the death of a child
I repost Gretchin’s post, with these words:
To all my friends—especially the moms and dads—and to those of you who have NOT lost a child to fentanyl, I ask you to take just a minute to read this testimony…
In the past decade alone, more than half a million mothers have buried their children due to fentanyl.
Many of you ask me throughout the week what the solution to this crisis is. I believe the solution will begin when those who have NOT lost a child to fentanyl come to understand that this drug does not discriminate—by tax bracket, political party, geography, or background. That it can reach any family. That no child is safe and we must educate ourselves and get involved as we do for other public health issues.
America must to wake up to this crisis, not merely its scale—the number of fatalities that are so daunting that they can’t be comprehended—but the scope.
The stories of Reyna and Debbie and Gretchin and Gina and the 500,000 mothers like them and 5,000,000 fathers and siblings and grandparents—who lost their most cherished family member or members in the past decade—must echo across the streets of America so everybody understands.
That’s what Walk for Lives is all about—stages rising in cities and towns across our nation, preparing communities by leveraging power of people and the power parents who understand this crisis better than anyone else.
Please determine your role today.
