Chance Meeting

Mary Beth Cichocki

Did you ever have a chance meeting with a stranger and later feel that there was nothing chance about it?  Today was one of those days.  I woke to the grief that  hits as soon as my eyes open and my mind wakes enough to realize my son, Matt is really gone.  His loss rocked my being like nothing I could have ever imagined.

There are days I must stay active. Keeping the grief at bay.  Physically challenging my body, training my mind to stay away from the reality of life.  Today was one of those days.

I ignored the 95 degree heat as I placed my bike on its rack, heading out to one of my favorite places.

My old college town has trails that take me back to another time long ago.  A time of innocence and expectation.  College life so full of possibilities, hopes and dreams.  Biking down familiar roads remembering happy times before life took me to places I’d never thought I’d travel.

Biking has a way of soothing my soul. I love watching the scenery change,  feeling the breeze on my skin as my legs pump giving me that adrenaline rush.
This day was beautiful.  A Bright blue shy full of puffy white clouds.  A small breeze brushing past my face.

I ignored the heat of the day and continued to enjoy the rush of the ride.  Allowing my mind to relax and enjoy the sights and smells of a day in my college town.  Biking past the gardens of Agriculture Hall.  Taking the time to allow the beauty to penetrate my soul.  Breathing in the scents of the flowers surrounding me.  Allowing myself a break from the grief that follows me everyday.

I remember biking past Rita’s and thinking I should stop.  Ignoring my thought I kept going but that feeling kept growing stronger.  Rita’s was always a treat for me. I’d order a mango gelati and savor every bite.  What the heck, I thought.  I’m out of water and soaked with sweat.  My mouth started to water as I thought about how amazing that gelati would feel sliding down my parched throat.

I found a cool spot in the shade finding that rare breeze on this scorching day.  I found my mind wandering.  Remembering those happy times I spent as a carefree student.  Wanting a do over.  Wanting to go back knowing what I do now.  Wanting your story to have a different ending.  Wanting not to be the grieving mother of a man who lost his battle with addiction.  Wanting to leave this grief behind and rekindle the happiness that now eluded my life.

I remember feeling like I was being watched.  I was so lost in my own thoughts I wasn’t aware of the couple who decided to join me in my shady paradise.  We exchanged smiles.  I immediately felt a connection.  We tried to pretend we weren’t glancing in the others direction.  Smiles continued then small talk started. His voice full of amazement.  Moving closer I hear, “Hey, I remember you. You were our nurse in the NICU.”  His wife now standing by his side.  “Yes, you took care of our daughter.”  We shake hands as his wife lowers her head and whispers, “She was born addicted and spent weeks in the NICU.”  Tears fill her eyes as she tells me how embarrassed she was to have been an addict.  They tell me how hard they have worked in their recovery.  Sharing the struggle they face everyday to stay clean. Both so proud of how far they’ve come and how healthy and beautiful their daughter is today.

My eyes filled with tears.  I also remembered.  Seeing them and hearing their stories filled me with both joy and pain.  I carried my secret close to my heart.  My son, also an addict told of the same struggles to stay clean.  I watched him fight his battle for seven years.  I lost him on a cold January day.

My grief poured out like a river breaking free of the dam that kept it contained.  They listened as I told your story.  Your struggles so similar to theirs.  Your ending so different.  We cried for you.  They reassured me I did everything I could to save you.  Two addict’s holding onto a broken mother.  Tears falling for a lost life.   Sharing a bond beyond explanation.

We parted with a mixture of smiles and tears.  Vowing to keep in touch.  Feeling connected.  I started to walk toward my bike.  I felt a hand touch my arm.  The father built so much like my son, wrapped me in his arms.  I closed my eyes and for a brief moment, it was Matt.  I could feel him holding tight.  Feel the comfort of his touch.  I drank in the warmth of the Bear Hug I missed so much. Wanting to hold on forever.  Wanting to trick my broken heart.  Wanting it never to end.

Biking away I felt peace.  Like Matt reached down and touched my soul. That my stopping had nothing to do with my longing for a gelati.  A chance encounter with a struggling addict.  The son of another mother.  A man who touched my heart, hiding his beautiful wings.