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Three years since I heard his voice, hugged him, fed him, helped him.  Three years since I heard him laugh or watched him give his brother a hard time.  Three years since I prayed for him.  Three years since we talked about his dreams for his future and the future of his child.


Three years.


Thirty years.

Three hundred years.


It’s all the same to me because time both stood still and sped up on that day three years ago.  Part of Synthetic Fentanyl’s assault on Hagen’s momma is I don’t know the actual day and time my son went Home, so I truly don’t know if I should post a tribute on the 18th or the 19th.  The police told me one thing, the coroner another, and I guess all things considered, it doesn’t matter, but a momma wants to know.  My heart has been heavy on the 18th of every month so I’m inclined to believe that he actually left the day after St. Patrick’s Day, but his headstone and the memorial tattoos reflect the “official” date.  The date he was found.  This is part of Hagen’s story, MY story, that I have only shared a few times, but I don’t KNOW when my son took his last breath.


Before you feel sorry for me or offer condolences, you need to know that I am not the only mother of this epidemic that doesn’t have that final piece of her child’s life.  There are literally THOUSANDS of us.  We know the minute and hour that they took their first breath, but not their last.  I am thinking about them today too.  Wondering which date they recognize.  Which day signifies for them the day a piece of their heart shattered.  Which day they release balloons or celebrate their child going Home.  Which day they say Happy Heavenly Birthday.

There isn’t an eloquent way to say it sucks, so I’m just going to say it sucks.  It sucks bad.  It hurts worse than it sucks and it’s a piece of a heartbreaking puzzle that will not be found until we are reunited, and on that day I’m not going to care about anything but seeing my Savior and my son.


Why am I focusing on that today?  Why am I not posting a heartfelt I miss you post?  Maybe it’s because I’m notified of an overdose death in my state and before I can blink, I’m notified of another.  Maybe it’s because I see hundreds daily succumbing to Synthetic Fentanyl.  Maybe it’s because what was once a trend of 22 and 23 year olds that should be graduating from college dying has now become a trend of 16 and 17 year olds who just got the driver’s license dying.  Maybe it’s because I feel like no one hears the warnings that my words scream.

I started this journey with a declaration that the enemy that pursued my son could no longer pursue him and he would not have the opportunity to pursue me, because I would be in pursuit of him.


And I am.


Each person that hears me and talks to their children, their school administrators, their elected officials and their law enforcement officials is helping bring about the change that has to happen or we will lose another generation.  To those that haven’t heard me and allowed my warnings to startle you to action, please look at this beautiful picture of my son.   Really look at it.  Remember that his momma doesn’t know when he died. Remember that he was his little brother’s first best friend, and that void can be filled by no one.  Remember that his son has a lifetime without his daddy.  Remember that Synthetic Fentanyl is in everything.  I’m going to say that again.


Synthetic Fentanyl is in EVERYTHING and it’s being created with the sole purpose of creating “addicts” or killing them.  Whichever.  The monsters creating it really don’t care either way.

Remember that the newest victims aren’t getting a chance to become addicts because they are dying experimenting.  Just being kids is costing them their lives.  The days of breaking into their parents’ liquor cabinet are long gone.   This generation is being preyed upon with offers for pills and weed (yes, WEED) that is poisoned with Synthetic Fentanyl.  It WILL kill them.  In minutes your vibrant child will be gone.

Remember all of that and then ask yourself if not having “the talk” is worth posting an angel graphic of your child on what may or may not be his date of death.

As always, if you have lost a loved one or are currently struggling with Substance Use Disorder, I’m here


**This is my post from last year which I edited to change two years to three.  I didn’t pen a new post because in the 365 days that have passed since I originally wrote it, over 100,000 families have said goodbye, Hagen is still gone and my message hasn’t changed, nor will it until synthetic Fentanyl has been eradicated.