Yesterday (August 31st) was International Overdose Awareness Day. Unfortunately, we at Patchwork know too many folks who have died from or have been impacted by drug overdoses. We are aware of the harm caused by illicit drug use. As we get to know the folks who regularly come through our doors, we hear the stories that they tell about their own struggles with illicit drug use and the struggles of the people they care about.
Harm reduction acknowledges these struggles and looks to support folks experiencing addiction. Harm reduction as defined by the National Harm Reduction Coalition:
- Incorporates a spectrum of strategies that includes safer use, managed use, abstinence, meeting people who use drugs “where they’re at,” and addressing conditions of use along with the use itself.
- Calls for the non-judgmental, non-coercive provision of services and resources to people who use drugs and the communities in which they live in order to assist them in reducing attendant harm.
- Recognizes that the realities of poverty, class, racism, social isolation, past trauma, sex-based discrimination, and other social inequalities affect both people’s vulnerability to and capacity for effectively dealing with drug-related harm.
- Does not attempt to minimize or ignore the real and tragic harm and danger that can be associated with illicit drug use.
I believe that Patchwork’s approach to serving our community is linked to these ideas. We do our best to listen to everyone who comes through our doors. To hear their stories. To listen for the things we can do to make things better for them. To see where they’re at and to listen to where they want to be. To not judge. To make sure they know someone cares.
However, this caring about people can be difficult for our staff and volunteers. That’s why it’s important for us to note occasions like International Overdose Awareness Day. It helps us to take a moment to reflect and to grieve together.
It is grief like this that John Rich has written about in the past. John writes:
When a family approaches me to do a funeral, I usually end up sitting around with them for hours, hearing stories about the deceased. I get to laugh at the hilarious recounting of past antics. When a loved one starts to cry, I get choked up. Even if I never met the person in life, I start to feel as though I know them. It is an honor and a privilege to be trusted with those stories and emotions. Being invited into that raw, intimate space with loved ones and then getting to plan the service with them is truly a sacred trust.
In those moments, it makes perfect sense to say, “Blessed are those who mourn.” Blessed are those who mourn. When we grieve, we feel that intense, painful love pouring out of us. In those moments we become acutely aware that love is the source of grief. As a wise superhero robot once said, “What is grief, if not love persevering?”
However, there is an unspoken assumption underlying all this sacred grieving, all this painful love, all this deep spiritual connection. It may seem so obvious that we don’t even notice it, but the foundation upon which all this sacred work of grief rests, is that someone, someone must believe that this person’s life is worthy of mourning. The deceased must be seen as a “grieve-able” person, or who would even think to ask a minister to officiate a service? The funeral, the stories, the laughter and tears, the five stages of grief, the holy connections made between the living, the dead, and the Divine—none of that can happen unless we acknowledge that this person deserves to be mourned.
Like I said, this may sound obvious. Doesn’t every human life deserve to be mourned? Unfortunately, when we look around at our society, at our own city, we can easily see that not every life is considered equally worthy of being grieved. There are many who are deemed “ungrievable.” They are the ones who don’t get an obituary, don’t get flowers sent to loved ones (or donations to a favorite charity in lieu of flowers), don’t get a Power Point slideshow of their life set to a soundtrack of their favorite music, don’t get, don’t get… In a sense, their life is lost a second time, because the sudden absence of that life is not deemed worthy of noticing, let alone commemorating.
On this International Overdose Awareness Day, may we at Patchwork create space to grieve the ungrievable. May our remembrance be dissent against both the darkness of the first death AND the invisibility of the second.