6/17/2019 10 Comments The Bunk roomAfter Jack and Nick died, we never slept another night in the house where it happened. I couldn’t do it and had no interest in trying. We would hang out there during the day and do what needed to be done, but when night came, we packed up and drove the 20 or so minutes to our lake home. We’ve had that lake house since the boys were little, spending every possible moment of our summers there. By default, it became the place where we privately grieved and eventually began to piece our shattered lives back together. It was almost like an oasis. I could breathe there. I could think. Since the boys died – four years ago – we’ve continued our lake house summer tradition, eventually selling our old home and buying a new one a few miles down the road. During that time, the lake house was the one part of our lives that stayed exactly the way it’s always been. The boy’s favorite room in that house was always what we called ‘the bunk room.’ All four of them slept in there, hung out with friends and did whatever else boys do when they’re together. Mike and I always slept upstairs in the loft. But this year we decided it’s time to change things up a bit. We’re moving the bunk room upstairs and our bedroom to the main floor… essentially swapping them. To prep for that, I found myself alone at the lake house a couple weeks ago, cleaning out the bunk room. And it unexpectedly wrecked me. So many memories from summers past. Each of our boys had a dresser in the bunk room with their own clothes. Jack and Nick’s little t-shirts they wore when they were in grade school were still in some of those drawers. I found pictures they drew, books Nick read and saw the little sailboats they used to float in the lake. I also found cards from both boys’ high school graduation parties – some of Jack’s remained unopened – since the last time we’d all been at the lake together was for his graduation party, only a few days before he died. I laughed (and cried) out loud at a post-it note my sweet Nick left inside one of his brother’s cards: I took $20. I owe ya. Most kids, let alone brothers, wouldn’t leave a note or intend to pay someone back. But Nick was thoughtful like that. He definitely would have reimbursed his brother that $20. As I sorted through what seemed like a mountain of happy but also deeply painful memories, I kept trying to tell myself it’s all just stuff. But unfolding and refolding those little t-shirts with SpongeBob on the front brought back vivid memories of the boys sitting around the bonfire with friends on a cool summer evening. Seeing their old bed sheet sets brought back their voices, talking all night long, and me walking down the hallway to tell them to quiet down. Again… and again. And right there, I fell apart. As grief often does, mine snuck up on me on an unexpected day at an unexpected time, inside that cozy bunk room with dark brown, knotty pine walls and two sets of twin bunk beds (four beds in total) where my boys used to sleep. That is the thing with grief… it is with you all the time. Sometimes it is a quiet uninvited guest and sometimes it is loud and in charge. I was so frustrated not to be able to get through those old drawers - the drawers nobody even used anymore - but SpongeBob got me… I told myself their lives gave us memories too beautiful to forget.
I told myself the tears were just love that was overflowing from my heart I told myself painting a few walls doesn’t erase the memories. I told myself change can be good… even though it’s difficult. Maybe I haven’t touched that room for the past four years because I’ve been busy. Or maybe I subconsciously wasn’t ready. Either way, I told myself it was ok… I’m grateful for that day in the bunk room, and happy memories that strangely allowed my heart to heal just a bit more.
10 Comments
Andrea
6/17/2019 06:59:41 pm
My heart aches heavy for you. I too, have 4 sons, aged 23, 20, 18, and 15. We live in south bend, and when I heard of this happening in 2015, I sat with my boys and told them about Nick and Jack, and what happened. Sadly, my older 2 had already heard about it. I will be sharing your words again. I pray they hear your bravely spoken message, again, as two of them heard you speak at Marian high school. God bless you and your 4 boys, and for all you've done in Nick and Jack's memory. #525
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Andrea
6/17/2019 07:18:11 pm
I’m so sorry I can’t imagine . However I am so happy that you are raising awareness!! As my sister is an actual drug addict and has been for years, I have seen her die of from a heart attack due to drug overdose and miraculously come back to life.
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Kristi
6/17/2019 07:25:50 pm
Beautifully said. And the most profound truth...that grief is always with you.... thank you for sharing your story, sharing your heart, and making such a difference and impact for so many. ❤️
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Sheila Marley
6/17/2019 07:28:13 pm
My eyes are spilling over with tears as I read this. Becky, you may not remember but we met years ago when I started at little Mish. My youngest daughter was several kids back in line on graduation day for Jack. My heart has broken reading your story. I always think "there but for the grace of God go I." Your strength is unbelievable and inspiring.
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Melanie
6/17/2019 07:31:05 pm
Becky - I never stop feeling amazed of your strength. Your courage and your perseverance. Those boys will FOREVER live in the lives and hearts of so many because of your dedication to this cause. What truly gets me is your strength to push through the immense pain and share with so many others - for the good of the world. That picture of your boys with their life jackets on is how I remember them...we went to that Lake house one time with you and I swear, they were that exact age. I remember Jack was scared of the water?? Or was that Nick? Anyway, you are so incredible. Thank you for sharing, never underestimate how powerful your words are. Wishing you peace. xxoxox Mel
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Michele DeStefano
6/17/2019 08:59:34 pm
Becky, we haven’t met, though we’ve a number of mutual friends. We’re both nurses by training...and sadly belong to the same club of bereaved mothers that no one would ever choose to join. You and your family have always been in my prayers... and I have been inspired, like so many others, by your courageous efforts on behalf of others. You are an amazement.
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Christy Tamez
6/18/2019 04:53:08 am
My son passed at his friends house just 10 or so miles down the street from ours. It’s been 2 1/2 years and I cannot bring myself to drive near there. I tried the other day bc I thought it was “time” or whatever stupid shit I tell myself. Huge mistake. I had a total meltdown that lasted the rest of that day. Looking back, I think I needed that meltdown. The tears I shed that day cleansed my soul a little. I feel like sometimes as a grieving moms we tell ourselves to suck it up and keep it moving - I need to stop doing that. Sometimes I just need to cry and miss my son without judging myself....
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Marcy Wiseman
6/18/2019 12:16:17 pm
Thank you for sharing that Becky! I remember those sweet faces just as I see in that picture! I can remember all of your boys one time or another mentioning your lake house, and I am so glad for all your amazing memories. It seems like one of the boys always talked about turtles at the lake if I recall correctly. I think of you all often and pray for your family’s healing. Thank you for all you are doing to raise awareness in our community and across the country. 💜
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Daphne
6/18/2019 03:14:15 pm
You are so incredibly strong Becky, beyond words honestly. I have been sharing your story with so many of my friends whose kids are becoming teenagers to spread the message and have their kids read the story about Jack and Nick. You are saving lives in their honor and their memory is more that alive, it is making a difference every day across the country! I need to come see your newly arranged lake house this summer and get a good hang in with you. XOXO
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Michelle Masten
6/19/2019 10:16:01 am
I know that pain all too well. My nephew, Ryan, was more like my brother because my parents has custody of him. I will never forget that phone call. I just kept saying, "What are you talking about?!" I held it together for my family while we planned his funeral, then when it was time to close his casket, I completely lost it. I have a video that we played at his funeral and I have only been able to watch it once in six years because it tears me apart. I cannot imagine the heartache from losing two sons at once. Sending you prayers🙏
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authorBecky Savage’s two teenage sons – Nick and Jack – accidentally overdosed on a deadly cocktail of alcohol and prescription drugs on the same night in June 2015. Becky and her husband Mike turned their unimaginable grief into a powerful message: educating students, parents, lawmakers and anyone else who will listen about the dangers of prescription drugs. The couple created 525 Foundation (the boys’ hockey numbers were 5 and 25) with a goal of preventing another family from experiencing the pain the Savage family still struggles with every day. To date, Becky has bravely shared her story with more than 60,000 high school students from Indiana to Texas to Oregon and presented at conferences across the country. She’s spoken to members of a United States Senate opioid crisis committee, serves as an ambassador for the Walgreens #ItEndsWithUs campaign and participated in countless interviews for podcasts and news media.
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