I had tried intervention (twice) and fortunately through talking in depth to a woman who helped with the intervention, found a good psychologist to help put my little bits and pieces mostly together again. I may be wrong, but I feel, at least for myself, that the pieces can be put back together again, but it is like a broken fine bone china cup. The pieces are all in the right place, but the cup never again has the same feel.

My best girlfriend was over at my house playing cards, a common evening occurrence. The phone rang, and the man identified himself as an officer with the R.C.M.P. That's when my mind started shouting at me.... NO NO NO NO NO NO! I had been expecting a call like this one sounded, for years.

The officer confirmed my identity, and requested permission to come to my home to speak with me. I asked what about, and he said he needed to talk with me in person. I said of course. I could feel the blood draining from my face. I told my girlfriend what the officer had said.

While I was trying to sort out my mind, and wait for the 1/2 hour that it would approximately take the officer to get to my home, as I live rurally, I talked to my friend, trying to think of any illegal thing that I had done, and hoping against hope that I had done something I was unaware of.. but serious enough for the officer to come to my home. Inside I knew I hadn't, but I was willing to accept anything, even a jail sentence, if it was just not what I thought it was about.

I felt so cold all over. There was finally the knock at the door, and I went to open it and invite the officer in. He looked so young, all apple cheeked, and too nice looking to say the awful words I was so afraid he would say. I invited him to sit down with us at my kitchen table. He asked me then if I was the mother of Jason...... I said yes, and as I did, I felt the floor fall out from under my chair.

He said, "I am sorry to have to have to give you some very bad news...." and proceeded to tell me how my son had been found at home by his room mate. Dead. Dead apparently for 2 days at least. There was a needle close to his body where he had either rolled or fallen off his bed. They had taken him to have an autopsy done, and I told the officer that they would probably would find a heroin overdose.

The young officer had held my arm on the table, in support the whole time. This young man, who looked so nice, had given me the worst news a mother could get. I remember yelling NO NO NO NO NO, when he officially told me. He gave me a big hug as he was leaving, and asked if I was ok, apparently I said yes, I dont remember.

I had to wait to hear from the coroners office to find out when he died and from what. I was expecting heroin was the culprit. That is when I learned about crystal meth. I drove down to Victoria from the interior, where I lived, my girlfriend coming with me, or maybe I went with her, either way, we got down there, and got his apartment cleaned out. The whole of his life fit in my car.

The police had confiscated many pieces of drug aparatus, but there was still some there. I sat most of the time, not able to gather the remnants of my sons life, to stuff into the backseat and trunk. When I got home, I had a package in the mail. His friends had gotten together and send me a beautiful crysal eagle, from which I now hang a crystal locket with a lock of my sons hair. Thats all I have left of my son, one lock of hair.

I found another person through a drug addictions help service, and was able to finally work out that it wasn't my fault. My son is still gone, regardless of how anyone wishes to assign guilt. There is a hole in me that a crystal eagle and locket don't fill. That's my story, nothing out of the norm I am sure for parents of crystal meth users.