On September 1, my son Michael celebrated his 36th birthday. On September 13th he was dead.
He became another statistic, another life cut short by drugs. Michael never used drugs to get high. He was high on life. A free spirit who lived life to the very fullest every second of every day. The voices in his head were ever-present though he did his best to ignore, silence, and finally to medicate them. As is all too common with people diagnosed with bipolar disorder plus so many other mental health issues, he thought he knew himself better than the doctors. He alone could find the perfect medication to allow him to live a normal life, without becoming numb. For many years it seemed to work. For the most part. If you ignore the “bad” times. The sudden irrational anger, the impulsive behavior, the lashing out.
If you spoke negatively of his drug use he cut you out. You did not exist for as long as he determined. The family who loved him learned to cope with his bad times, swallow their worry just to maintain a close relationship. He lived in Colorado, the land of legal pot. What’s the harm? At least he won’t go to jail. Where the problem arose was that pot didn’t quiet the voices. Over time and with the years they grew louder. Solution? For awhile it was psychedelics. Then coke. Then heroin. Never injected — not one needle mark on this boy. He was in control, don’t you know. He knew how to manage it.
What he didn’t know was that it was killing him slowly. Nope, this was not your everyday overdose. Michael gradually killed his heart. Literally. His lungs were turning to dust at the end. His heart had actual dead spots. The doctors asked his parents — myself and my husband — if he was born with a heart condition. He wasn’t. He killed himself everyday for 20 years without even knowing it. All while loving the woman I refer to as my daughter-in-law. All while playing Mr. Mom with his kids. All while travelling all over the country following his beloved Phish. All while arranging a family trip to see the Brewers every summer for every member of his HUGE extended family and friends who could attend. Because you see, Michael loved everyone he ever met. Most loved him back. He was charming, funny, smart, smart, smart, kind, loving, and warm. He was a Democrat who could talk politics with the best of them. An artist. A true lover of nature — simply, he loved all things alive, be it flora or fauna.
I have been a member of this community for 15 years. I have never once asked anyone here for anything. I have donated anonymously to more members than I can remember, several more than once. I have paid for quilt squares. I have a lifetime subscription yet still paid the monthly fee until that stopped being a thing, just to help support the site. I do not regret one cent I have given. I will continue to give when I am able.
But now I am going to ask. I am asking for my son’s sons. My husband and I have covered all funeral expenses. My grandsons have food, clothing, a roof over their heads and the love of their mothers. They do not need anything now. But they will in the future. They need to go to college. God forbid they inherit their father’s disorders — those costs are unimaginable, both in money and tears.
My family has set up a Go Fund Me page for Michael’s children. Anything collected there will be put into the trust that has been set up for the kids from monies donated at the funeral. That money will remain untouched until the children need it for medical, education, or any other emergency.
I am asking this community for help. Please donate. If you cannot, please share the link on your facebook, twitter, whatever. It will mean more than I can say.
I would live under a bridge before I would ask this community for anything for myself. But pride means nothing when you have lost your child. I loved him with every inch of me. Every single atom. This pain is unbearable. So the hell with pride. I am asking for moral and/or monetary support from this community I love. Please love me back. Just this one time.
I have been asked for my Paypal address so I am providing it:
paypal.me/SusannFritsch
