My Son Lost His Soul To Drugs

February 5, 2016  

I hold this day in my heart with sadness, love, and compassion.

Today would have been my son’s 29th birthday.  Today I want to give a voice to Cody and to his addiction, which ultimately took his young life.

To all those he hurt, I say he was sick, not cruel.  To all those he disappointed, I say he was sick, not irresponsible.  To all those he lied to, I say he was sick, not dishonest.  To all those he stole from, I say he was sick, not a thief.  To all those who said it was a choice, I say it was a choice in the beginning, but not in the end.  To all those people who judged him, I say he was sick, not a moral failure.

But wait, does being sick make it acceptable to hurt, disappoint, lie, steal, or be irresponsible?  Absolutely not.  Addiction is a disease, but that doesn’t mean it’s a viable excuse.  Sobriety is possible, but difficult.

I think the biggest lie was the one Cody kept telling himself.  He told himself whatever he needed to hear to get his way and get high, regardless of the consequences.  Once he started, he couldn’t stop.  All of these things he did were wrong, and he knew it, which made him feel embarrassed and ashamed.  He said to someone I know a week before he died “I’m a piece of shit”.  He certainly wasn’t an angel, but he wasn’t a piece of shit, either.

He was afflicted with an abnormal reaction to drugs and alcohol; a mental obsession and physical craving.  This is a definition of addiction, which makes sense to me, after watching Cody struggle for so many years.  He couldn’t stop when others could, and it was hard for him to accept that reality, especially in the beginning.

Unfortunately, the worse he felt, the more he wanted to feel numb.  There weren’t enough drugs on this planet to numb Cody sufficiently.  His body craved more and more.  I know this is true, because he told me.

Cody wanted sobriety, but he couldn’t hold onto it.  He wanted to be well for his daughter, for his dad, for me, but couldn’t hold onto it for himself.  I often wonder if he finally gave up on himself.

What else do I think he would he want to voice on this day of his birth?

That he didn’t sell his soul for drugs, that he lost his soul to drugs.  That he’s sorry for all the pain and suffering  he caused everyone, that he should have trusted more in the love, acceptance, and help from a Higher Power. That it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but his own.

That it started out as a way to fit in, but ended up as a disease. That he loved his daughter, his family, and his friends with all his heart.  That he’s not addicted any longer.  That he’s at peace now and out of his pain and experiencing a joy drugs could never give him. That he’s here with us all if we take the time to feel his presence and notice the signs.

That he is an angel now.

Yes, Cody is finally an angel.  Happy Birthday, Angel.

Mary Cucarola – February 2016

Comments 6

  1. Happy birthday my friend and nephew. I really miss your outgoing spirit and humor. Wish we were playing golf at the Omni Interlocken golf course and laughing on your birthday!

    Love you,

    Uncle Bill

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  3. As the mother of a recovering addict , your words were very meaningful to me. Thank you for expressing yourself so eloquently I look forward to following your blog. I assume that beautiful little girl is Codys daugther….what a blessing to have her.

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    Thanks for reading my blog, Abbie. Yes, Olivia is Cody’s daughter and she is 8 years old now. I see her all of the time, and am very grateful. In fact, she is spending the weekend with me now, and sound asleep in my bed, while I have my usual bout with insomnia. Please stay in touch.

  5. I lost my youngest son on 9-4-15. He was just 22 years (and 16 days ) old. I’m trying to find my way out of this fog I’ve been in for ten months and it seems like its impossible. I feel selfish being so unhappy when I have two other sons and my husband who love me and I’m blessed to still have both my parents here for support. So I try to hide my sadness.

    I just feel like I lost half of myself and how does one go on when they feel incomplete? Have you ever felt like you forgot something when you left your house or that something is missing? That is my everyday, every minute life now.

    I own my own business so taking any extended leave to grieve was not an option and I work with children so there is no room for long faces when working with children so, I am a pro at putting on my happy face and would never cry in front of people. I fear that maybe people are saying behind my back “wow, she barely even grieved” when the truth is I suffer from PTSD from finding my sons body, I have horrible flashbacks, I never sleep more than an hour at a time, I cry ANY time I am alone or in my car, taking a shower etc. I had to move out of my big beautiful lush home because I couldn’t stand being in the place my Son died and it was a trigger for my PTSD. My life is Hell.

    I don’t blame myself or my Son and sometimes I wish I had SOMEONE to blame. How can my life be completely turned upside down and ruined with nobody to blame?

    I’ve been reading your blogs hoping that I can get some hope from someone somewhere…anyone, anywhere. Hope that maybe someday my life will feel complete again but then I realize that without my son that is just not possible

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    I am so sorry about your son, Lori. It hasn’t been that long, so you are still deep in your grief. I went to grief counseling for over a year every week, and it really helped me. I would suggest you might start there. There are grief support groups available, too. I had PTSD at one point as well and went to counseling specifically for it. So perhaps you could find one counselor who might help you one or with both or at least a grief support group. Hope is possible, especially if you reach out for help. My son was my only child, so I felt so alone when he died. It was only through my network of friends, family, and professionals that I began to recover. Also, starting this organization has helped with my healing, too. You don’t have to hide your sadness. In fact, it’s healthier to talk about it. One of the first things I learned in grief counseling was to feel my feelings, no matter how painful they were. I have a strong faith, but was mad at God for a long time and I worked through it. People will understand you sadness. Please take care of yourself and reach out for help. Warmly, Mary

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