Mom Tanya and son Joel - forever Roughriders fans

Tanya Hornbuckle reflects both on her personal loss after the tragic loss of her son Joel and the collective strength of the community, while acknowledging the shared experience of loss due to the toxic drug supply.

International Overdose Awareness Day - Edmonton, AB - August 31, 2024

Good evening,

I'm honoured to be standing here as a part of this community that has come together due to the toxic drug supply that has resulted in the deaths of our loved ones. I'm sorry we have to have this event but I am absolutely grateful that you all are here. Take a good look around. Notice that you are not alone. Hug the friends or family members you are here with. Reach out to those who stand by themselves, as they also deserve the love & understanding we all need. Your loved one mattered.

On February 6, 2022 I found my only child, my son Joel at his condo had died as a result of fentanyl poisoning. I lost my best friend. He laughed loud. He loved his family so very much. He was smart and a smartass. He gave these weird hugs with his head titled back but I'd always hold him a bit longer and tighter. He was thankful, he appreciated the small things. He was the animal whisperer, especially cats & dogs. It made his heart happy. We always told each other "I love you" He liked the vastness of space & the universe. Consider Carl Sagan's statement: “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” I miss him.

As you all know, Everything becomes a blur, you handle arrangements like a robot or perhaps you let family do it. The funeral keeps your mind busy temporarily.

You sob uncontrollably, especially alone. You have probably shed more tears in your shower than the water that streams out. Mornings are worse because you realize it wasn't a nightmare... your chest aches. You find yourself forgetting to breathe. You replay getting the news, you even stand in that same spot, you fall to your knees again... you never felt such gut wrenching pain in your life. You don't answer the phone... you want to be left alone. You can't eat. When your not crying, your just sitting staring, your mind is elsewhere. You want to die.

Within weeks you've noticed everyone has resumed their lives, which is normal but you wonder how can they? Your car is another crying place, at every red light you stare up to the sky... where are you? Tears fall. You purposely drive by places your person has been, their school maybe the house they grew up in the apartment they lived in or the homeless shelters. You smell their clothes, some of us wear them... sleep in them.

People start giving you advice... this is very hard because you try desperately to explain what has happened to your entire being... nothing will ever be the same... ever.

Unfortunately they don't understand and you sometimes lose relationships. Months go by, maybe you have to return to work. Friends think your doing better because your functioning. As soon as you get in your car.. here come the tears you've held in all day.

Your body is so tired. The stress of this deep loss brings a host of health problems, you stop caring. You think if I can just get by one year.. then you find out that the second year is harder. Reality has set in.

You don't recognize the person in the mirror anymore. The holidays come. Their birthday. How will you get through them. You just want them to be over.

I'm seeing and hearing about so many new families who are just beginning this journey. Everyone has a different story but the pain is the same. Years pass and hopefully you've connected with other people who have lost a loved one to a substance use disorder, because they really are the only ones who get it.

I've learned it's still okay to cry and meltdowns do still happen. The chest aches will get better and you'll breathe again. You definitely will know who your friends are and family members can disappoint you terribly. If you are one of the lucky ones who have amazing friends and family, lean on them when you need to.

You will grieve your own way... and yes it's forever... because you will love your person.. forever. You will be the one who keeps their memory alive.

Do not ever feel like you have to apologize for how you grieve. You will have happy moments again. That hole in your heart, it's there to stay but you will laugh again...it won't be the same but you will somehow continue to live.

You will get stronger, you will develop a tougher skin and stand up to those who hurt you... and at the same time you become more compassionate... more empathetic.

You have endured the worse pain that could happen. You decide what's best for you. I'll validate every feeling you have... your not going crazy I promise.

What I’ve learned so far about grief is that it has no preference on where you are when it hits you. Grief holds no concept of time. Grief doesn’t care if it’s convenient, because grief really has no plan. Sometimes grief comes in waves, and other times it’s unrelenting. Grief is unavoidable and will completely overcome you. Grief is an unfixable force that will demand its place in your life once it’s there. The only way to get through grief is to surrender yourself to it. Hold it by the hand.

Most importantly, the strength that you develop through grieving doesn’t come from the moments that you are put together. Strength comes from the brokenness, from crying while you are curled up on the floor. It comes from moments that you are literally only surviving. Strength is fighting against that sharp feeling in your chest and succumbing to the deep scream that it becomes. It comes from honoring the loved one that you lost. It comes from honoring the love that you experienced, despite the immense pain that it brings.

Grief is unimaginably hard. All you can do it let it happen. Respect the process and hold on with everything you have through the difficult moments. When the light shines and the sun comes out in the midst of your storm, enjoy it. Those are the moments when your heart can rest a little before it gets dark again. Forgive yourself and give yourself the space you need to feel all of the things. There is no right or wrong way to navigate this. There are no beautifully designed stages. It’s messy as hell! Your grief is your personal experience and you don’t owe anyone anything. You will get through this and so will I.

I feel like crying most of the time, I’ve shifted my focus from feeling to doing. I recognize my sadness, but don’t want to feel that sad, so I’m keeping busy. Sometimes when we don’t want to over-feel, we over-do.

When people keep compulsively occupied, they leave no time to confront their internal experience. This constant distraction leads to denying our emotions.

While this may be a quick fix to avoid dealing with uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, it only makes them more intense over time.

The more you feel the need to stay busy all the time, the more you try to avoid your present. It is said that when a person isn’t happy or satisfied with how their life is turning, the more they stay busy. While the need to be busy all the time can help keep our minds off of things, it can also increase our stress, anxiety, and mental strain.

In our society, staying busy means being productive and working hard to achieve our goals and dreams. But using ‘busyness’ or staying busy to avoid feelings or as a coping mechanism can be harmful and unhealthy.

Don't focus all your time on work, school, or care-giving, which could leave you emotionally drained and still feeling alone. Connecting with others is crucial to making you feel better. Do activities that enrich your mind and body. Accept that it's okay to feel sad from time to time, and make sure to allow yourself time for self care.

Time does not heal. Not in and of itself. True healing requires a consciousness and constant work. Every day. My mind is still unable to process it. I just cannot describe the feeling.

When I think about my son Joel I have moments of reflection:

Time makes his scent fade. I cling to his clothes hoping to draw in one last remnant of his comforting smell. Some days I catch a whiff and weep with gratitude because for a fleeting moment it makes time take me back to where I want to be. With him. The warmth of his arms wrapped around me, the very weight that grounded me as I snuggled into his every fiber, melts into time.

This feeling of missing someone can be as deep, as an endless ocean. My love was unconditional.

If I am waiting for time to mend, to fix the unfixable, it will not come. I am the key. MY deep love is the source. If I allow myself, I will find a way to carry all the broken. Not because of time but because of love. Love I receive from my husband, my family, my friends and the love I have to give myself.

His cousin Darian wrote:

Joel,

That sudden death, that phone call I received telling me you were no longer breathing, the thought raced through my head; I was in shock, I didn’t know what to think or what to believe. That day February.6th,2022 my life changed; my perspective changed; my world changed.

I grieve everyday, as the days go on it has gotten better, easier to push through & not feel guilt. Guilt has been the hardest part of the grieving, I felt guilty for pushing you away & out of my house, I felt guilty for not having the education and mental stability to be open minded and have perspective on other peoples situations .

I have taken this grief and unbearable loss and turned it into a voice for you, and many individuals who are suffering like you did.

I will be advocating daily in remembrance of you. Always for you. In replace of you. I wish you were still here.

I often feel bad that I did not understand more about addiction and withdrawal when my son was alive. I sometimes feel guilty that I can be more sympathetic to people suffering from addiction now than I could to my own son. But like everything else tainted by addiction, it’s not that easy.

I know more now because there is more accurate knowledge available, and I now have the time to learn. So there are practical reasons that I know more now than I did while my son was alive and struggling. But it’s even more than that.

Addiction threw off my emotional radar. I was scared and desperate, stressed and overwhelmed, in way over my head. There were days I couldn’t even decide if I was hungry or not, or what to wear. My mind was completely clouded from the stress I was living under.

On top of that, I was trying to get a read on someone whose brain was being directly affected physically, mentally and emotionally by a foreign substance. If he couldn’t get a read on himself at times, how could I expect to do better myself?

Even if I had known more about fentanyl, I still would have found myself confused. There was more than just one drug involved. I never realized that many people who suffer from addiction have more than just one drug of choice, and that my son was one of them.

And of course there’s the biggest reason of all. I was fighting for my son’s life. I was fighting for my Moms Grandson, my siters nephew & his cousins so I couldn’t look at the problem dispassionately when all of our lives were hanging in the balance. It was a fight I was determined to win, and once I won there would have been plenty of time to learn the things I now know and understand the things I now understand. Even when I feared the ending I eventually got, I never really believed in my heart that my son would die.

That’s why I don’t feel guilty anymore about being more understanding and having more respect to those suffering from addiction. I’m not giving them something that I could not or did not give my son. I’m giving them something that I learned to give because of my son, and I honor my son’s struggle by seeing them as people like my son.

As a good and worthy person in a fight for their life.

I discovered that there are silver linings in the trauma I experienced from my sons substance use disorder. It has shaped me into who I am; it has given me a different lens. My sons death ignited a power and a gratitude toward life that some people don't have. I've been given an opportunity to have an impact on other people's lives — and that is where I've found purpose. I believe people want to have conversations, but they are scared of how they're going to be judged. We have to join forces and march in this together: Addiction affects all walks of life, and all of us are worthy, whatever our paths are. It's time to reverse the feelings of shame that society teaches us.

It's OK to speak openly about addiction, and sharing one's story only helps reduce the stigma that shouldn't exist but does. If I tell someone that my child overdosed, they assume he was a junkie strung out on drugs. If I tell them my child was poisoned by fentanyl, they're like, ‘What happened?’” It keeps the door open. So to me ‘overdose’ is a closed door. The victims don’t know they’re taking fentanyl in many cases. They think they’re taking safe supply. When my son died, I felt that stigma from people, that there was personal responsibility involved because he had been using illicit drugs, but he didn’t get what he bargained for. He didn’t ask for the amount of fentanyl that was in his system.

He wasn’t trying to die. He was trying to get high. Poisoning means that harm indeed occurred but it can be a poisoning from countless substances, including lead, alcohol and food, as well as fentanyl. Both terms are used whether an event results in survival or death. Joel got the death penalty and our family got a life sentence.

Please reach out. We see you. We love you. We understand.

Thank you