The Investigation Stage of Grief
- Written by Taylor
The Sixth Stage of Grief
If you have lost a loved one to a drug overdose, murder, suicide, or any other tragic, sudden accident, then you know what it feels like to grieve their loss while also asking yourself questions over and over again, knowing you may never find out the answers. On July 24, 2019, I sat in my mom’s apartment asking her what medications she was taking, telling her that we had talked about my newborn daughter too much, that it was time for us to focus on her. I told her she could tell me anything and that Morgan and I would do whatever we could to help her. A week later, I stood in her apartment again, this time staring blankly at a police officer who was telling me that my mom was dead just a couple of feet away from me.
The next day, Morgan, myself, and one of our cousins went to Mom’s apartment in search of her will and found transaction receipts from various banks, 3 brochures for addiction treatment centers in her purse, and piles of mail that was never opened. Over the next week while we cleaned out her apartment, we found evidence of opioid and benzodiazepine abuse. During the week after Mom died, Morgan and I planned the entire funeral, wrote an obituary, wrote and gave a eulogy, identified our mom’s body at a crematorium, cleaned out her entire apartment, and suddenly took on roles as detectives as we uncovered the secrets of my mom’s addiction to pills that we didn’t know about while she was alive. The more we uncovered, the more questions we had. In the weeks and months to come, I became obsessed with finding out answers and became stuck in the “investigative” stage of grief.
The Investigation
During the week of Mom’s death, we found out some answers, but those answers led to more questions. My husband took on the role of combing through months of unopened mail that my mom had sitting in her apartment. What he discovered was my mom’s secret debt that had piled up over the years. My aunt called my mom’s primary care doctor to find out what happened at her doctor’s appointment 2 days before she died. This was a complete dead end due to HIPAA laws that extend into death. My sister and I googled and kept a list of the different medications that we found in her apartment, seeing if there were any themes with what she was taking. Opioids and benzos were the culprits.* The addiction treatment center brochures in her purse gave us the biggest picture of what caused my mom’s death: addiction. Every night I stayed up well past midnight Google searching things like “opioid addiction,” “signs of an overdose,” “signs of addiction,” “withdrawal symptoms.” Everything I read was an accurate description of my mom, especially in the last few years of her life.
Unfortunately, the police were unable to provide us with information on how they found her. We didn’t know anything except that she was found dead in her bedroom, so we had to wait for toxicology results. Morgan and I spent hours talking and crying together, asking each other what led to this tragic death for our mom. How long had she been addicted to pills? What doctors let her be on them for so long? Why didn’t she tell anyone? Or did she? Did anyone in our family or her friends know about her illness? Did she know she had a problem? Did she ever call those addiction treatment centers? Had she ever tried to stop taking the pills? Did she die from an accidental overdose or by suicide? What had she been telling her doctors? And the list goes on.
Effects of the Investigation Stage
I spent weeks combing through her email, which revealed information on where she was getting her pills, how much they cost, and the fact that they conveniently came right to her door. This became an obsession of mine, reading tons of emails dating back to 2013 and trying to piece together my mom’s secret life. It got to the point where I was barely functioning after I read the emails, unable to stop my mind from thinking about how tragic and sad my mom’s story was. I had a hard time remembering anything good about my mom. My thoughts were consumed by the secrets and tragedy instead of her silly dance moves and bright smile. My husband and I sat down and decided that it was best for my mental health for me to stop looking through her email.
However, I still wanted answers. I continued to spend hours of my time working with a detective to give him information on where she was getting these drugs. I also spent hours trying different passcodes to get into her phone and called Verizon and Apple, trying to find a way to gain access to her account. I wanted so badly to look at her text messages from those last days of her life when she was so depressed and crying out for help. I wanted to see if she called those treatment centers. Wouldn’t it make me feel better to know for sure if she had tried to get herself help? We never got access to her phone, and it took me a long time to be okay with that.
The Results of the Investigation
Six weeks after her death, Morgan and I were told we could start calling the medical examiner’s office because the results would come back any day after that. For 6 more weeks we called everyday, asking if the results were in. Everyday my heart would race, and I would get nauseated, wondering if this was the day that maybe we could get some answers as to what happened that horrifying week.
We finally got the results: alprazolam (Xanax) and fentanyl were found in her system. These results told us two things:
It was an accidental overdose. The pills she ordered were disguised as Percocet, but they were actually fentanyl. She didn’t know what she was taking. Honestly this was a huge relief for me after weeks of wondering if she was so sick that maybe she did die by suicide.
Fentanyl typically kills people instantly. So, she probably didn’t suffer at all when she died. This was also comforting in a strange way. I’m grateful it was a painless death even though that meant she died of a fentanyl overdose.
Getting this one answer was helpful in letting some of the other questions go.
Coming to Terms with the Unknowns
I realize that we are luckier than some people. We got some answers to the mysteries surrounding mom’s death. Some of them have brought me peace. However, there are answers we will never get, and I am slowly learning to cope with this. Over time, the questions have faded and come back in waves rather than sitting at the forefront of my mind daily. They are still there, but they don’t haunt me all of the time.
How did I get there? I took my questions and my pain to God, and I have learned that He tells us what we need to know but not necessarily what we want to know (“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever...” - Deuteronomy 29:29). I have taken the answers He has revealed to me and praised Him for it, and I know that ultimately He is the Creator and is omnipotent (“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?” - Job 38:4). Some things aren’t meant to be revealed to us on this side of heaven. It isn’t a one time process. I was in constant conversation with God trying to be okay with not knowing all the answers.
I am confident that my mom knew and loved Jesus and that she is in heaven worshiping Him and living a new life free of pain and sorrow (“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4). Knowing that certainty is more comforting and more important than the answers to any other questions I have.
*Always dispose of medications safely by taking them to your local pharmacy or police station. You can also buy medicine disposal kits online.