On March 20, 2004, my twenty-three year old son, Peter P. Black IV overdosed.  Pete had been battling his addiction to prescription drugs.  In an attempt to self-medicate his withdrawal from oxycontin, he miscalculated with benzodiazapenes.  This miscalculation cost him his life.  Pete died after artificial life support was removed on March 23, 2004.

On the night that Peter overdosed, I was away for the weekend at my post-graduate training in Core Energetics. During a community meeting, I felt compelled to ask the group to pray with me, for my son.  At about 8:20 p.m. this group of about a hundred therapists and students stood with me as I offered this prayer:  “Dear God, May your Divine Light penetrate Peter’s soul.”   Not long after, I received the call that Pete had overdosed and was in a coma.  I found out much later that Emergency Medical Services got to him at 8:30 p.m. just minutes after our prayer.  By all clinical indications, he had been dead for quite some time before they arrived.  It was a miracle that he was able to be resuscitated at all, a miracle that gave us three days to love and care for Pete, to touch him and to say our goodbyes.  We filled three waiting rooms at the hospital.  A security guard asked if Pete was a celebrity because so many people came to sit vigil in hopes of his recovery. 

Pete was bright, funny, charming, and loving, like so many who suffer the chronic brain disease of addiction. He loved history and aspired to teach.  He was a beautiful human being, who had a natural capacity to make others feel good about themselves. He had a chronic brain disease.  He died from his disease leaving behind, a 15 month old son.

Moving through the early process of grieving, it is a common phenomenon for the one grieving to experience aspects of the disease of the loved one who has passed on.  On losing Pete, I developed an empathetic awareness of the suffering of the individual with this disease of addiction: the desperation and self-loathing; the hiding and shame; the inability to cope with pain; the inability to experience any real pleasure; the hopelessness and helplessness; the distortions created by the changes in brain chemistry.  Many of the elements were quite similar to the pain I was feeling related to my profound grief and loss.

Several months into the mourning process, an inspiration came to me in dreams that led me to create the Black Rock Foundation.  The name Peter means rock, so Black Rock was a way to memorialize my son’s life. The image of Black Rock symbolizes an eternal strength and wisdom of the soul. Like rock formed from volcanic eruptions, my resolve to de-stigmatize the disease of addiction formed from the eruption of emotion and pain upon losing my child.  It is solid, unshakable, and impervious to things temperamental.  The Black Rock of my dreams was shiny and beautiful, symbolic of the compassion and patience needed for healing. I am deeply connected to Pete’s soul in the mission of Black Rock Foundation.

The very word “addict” conjures images that have resulted in stereotyping of the person suffering from addiction in a way that isolates and dehumanizes.  This stigmatization prevents those suffering from getting the treatment that could be life saving.  It keeps their loved ones from getting the support and information they need in times of crisis.

Crucial to healing in the grieving process is being able to tell your story and to be received with compassion.  For those of us who grieve the loss of one who died from addiction, however, the stigma and shame make this even more difficult. Sharing the story often brings more pain, as you look into the face of those who judge the tragedy that took your loved one’s life.

It is our hope that Black Rock Foundation will inspire you to see the humanity of those suffering from the disease of addiction. You can help by learning about the disease and sharing your new knowledge with others.  If you open your heart and your mind, we are one step closer to shifting from a consciousness of judgment and indifference to a consciousness of compassion and healing.  Please pray.

                                    Kate Holt

                                    President

                                    Black Rock Foundation