I WANT TO SHARE MY STROKE SURVIVOR SISTER Debbie Schnidt Bockstahler STORY WITH THE WORLD

#mywalkofdestiny

Cody Louis McCaulley, 28, April 28, 1984 to July 1, 2012
Mother: Debbie Schnidt Bockstahler
Brother: Dustin McCaulley
Cody's Grandmother and Debbie's mom: Stephanie Schnidt (Who Debbie dedicated her story "A MOTHER'S CRY" to).

Drug Awareness "A Mother's Cry"
About......
This page is to bring awareness of all things out there can that can bring harm and devistation to families-
Description......
Lets face it- We all have choices in life, its called FREE WILL- and we have children and parents to become aware of what is happening around all of us each day. THis page is to inform everyone of all the differant things that our society has managed to bring to our children. Look at this page, and share it with your teens, family, friends. So many resourses available and so many solutions to problems we face everyday in this fast paced world. Please come take a look and share what you find. It may save a life-
https://www.facebook.com/AMothersCryForAwareness

The HOPE SHARE
Your Story Can Change Someone Else's.

"A MOTHER'S CRY"
A mothers cry for awareness
Written by; Deborah Bockstahler
Dedicated to:
My Precious Mother
The Grandmother, Stephanie Schnidt
and
Beloved Son, Cody McCaulley
4-28-84 + 7-1-2012
Introduction

It seemed so unreal, it can’t be true!

This is not a story. These are real events and feelings leading up to a death of a heroin addict and how it destroyed a family.

My intentions are not to bring blame or place guilt among any one who read this.

The intentions are to write what has happened in my situation to bring awareness that this is an epidemic and it is in your community.

This is to bring awareness to all parents that think it would never happen to you or your children or your families but please BEWARE…

The Call….

My story in black and white as life seems it will be forever more.

It was a very hot afternoon July 1, 2012. The temperature had already surged to over 103 and it was around 3:30 pm. My husband and I had been working in the yard most of the morning and doing things around the house. We finally took a break to enjoy some beverages in the cool air conditioning and stir the sauce for spaghetti that had been simmering on the stove all Sunday morning.
Everything changed the moment the phone rang. My husband answered the phone and could not understand the conversation that he was hearing on the other end. My brother was calling and asking if we had received a call from my Mother, confused I had no idea how this was going to change my life forever. My brother said the words I thought I would never ever hear.

“There is a criminal investigation going on at mom's and Cody may be dead due to a heroin overdose, Mom found him in the basement.”

The Road To Darkness
This can’t be happening!

The drive to my mother’s house will never be forgotten and the road to her house to this day fills me with anxiety. Was this real? Did this really happen to my son? Disbelief, anger, fear that this is not happening, they were wrong. My heart ached, broken and destroyed. I prayed, I begged God to not let this be happening. I was asking and doubting Faith ask I cried out :Why has He forsaken me?” As we drove up the long driveway to my mother’s house, my heart pounding so hard I could feel and hear it and couldn’t even speak. I saw my brother standing there and the look on his face I will never forget. I knew at that moment my world would be forever shattered. My brother came to me in the car as I sat there in disbelief not wanting to hear what was about to unfold. Words were not even spoken as I looked into his sad eyes, he nodded his head which confirmed with that Cody, my son was dead.
I can’t even explain what had happened after that except that I felt my whole body go numb, I remember getting out of the car and I wanted to run, to keep on going. I was stuck, everyone one was holding me back from going down in the basement to be with him, to pray over him, to bring him back. I prayed for a miracle. Disbelief and grief immediately took over and I wept, fell to the ground. I’m not sure how long I laid there kicking and screaming on the ground in the grass. I felt the dirt under my nails as I clawed at the grass, pulling it, kicking and screaming this wasn’t suppose to be happening, it wasn’t real! Moments went by as I yelled and screamed out to God. What had I been praying for all this time?
Had God not heard my cries before all of this? Had I not prayed the right prayers for my children? Digging into the ground I screamed out in despair only to be lifted then by my brother who held me until I could finally get my bearings to face the truth of everything that was before me. The ground seemed to barely be touching my feet as I walked in my brother’s strong arms that held me up so I could face reality of what was yet to come.
Our Pastor came and provided much comfort and prayer as questions of faith and all understanding of what happening overwhelmed my whole family. I remember questioning everything I believed in only to then be regretful for even questioning my faith. How cold this be happening to us? What did I do wrong? I felt so much guilt, and remorse. I believe because so much grief had over taken me that I didn’t know what to feel or what to believe. Our Pastor reminded me of my profound faith and love for Christ and most of all that even through my darkest times that the Lord knows our hearts. God was with us and most of all that He was with Cody. The enemy took my son, the enemy being the drug, not God. I was not believing in anything or any one at that moment, everything seemed shattered, like glass falling on cement, a million pieces and emotions filled my heart. Darkness and gloom seemed to overtake my whole being.
I couldn’t comprehend this, all that was happening around me. I was afraid, scared, I couldn’t even make sense of what was being told to me. I didn’t want to believe that any of it was true but this is the reality of how heroin can rob, ruin and destroy lives and families. I knew then I had to be strong and lean on God to make it thru this. But how? How can I trust anyone, it seemed I yelled this out plenty of times to our Lord but was He listening? Where did He go in my time of need?
Our families’ strength, faith and love thru all of this were so evident mostly because of Cody’s grandmother who found her grandson. Thru it all she was still able to hold our family together. How she felt, her panic, her grief….how she must have felt when it was all happening because she found him, her grandson laying on the floor unresponsive. Where did she find the strength to face what was happening, how did she make any of the calls that she did? What would anyone do? So many questions left unanswered because so much pain and grief and sadness has now taken place.
Grandmothers are not suppose to find their grandchildren dead from an over dose of drugs. Grandmothers are special. They are soft and stern, loving, caring and bold. They are encouragers, who give warmth and kindness, laughter and love. They are teachers, and always make grandchildren feel better no matter how simple or complex the problem may be. She is the grandmother who over looks faults and dares her grandchildren to dream, to live life to the fullest. She teaches them to love and respect for their parents.
Cody cherished all of these things that his grandmother gave to him unconditionally. I know that mostly he respected her honesty with him. She told him like it was and he truly respected her for that. As Cody grew into a man he wanted so many things but had a hard time sorting a lot of it out. He always knew that his grandmother would set him on the right path. She taught him that there were always consequences for his actions good or bad.

A Revelation of an Awareness Forum
Hope can be found!

My husband and I along with my mother gathered at the family table to discuss arrangements. The funeral directors, police investigators and coroners were asking questions. I could barley think and answer correctly. Everyone was so sympathetic but I was angry and felt so defeated by this drug and the information they were telling me about how this drug had taken over our youth.
When I heard the numbers of death from heroin I realized at that moment how heroin is such a rising epidemic and that it had taken so many before my son. I then felt my faith come to me and new that I was needed to help others to bring awareness and found because of my faith that I was meant to do this thru my son Cody’s legacy.
Sitting there in the midst of all the grief and chaos of what was happening to our family that other families were going thru the same thing. I knew then that this drug epidemic has got to be stopped. I would never want to see another family go thru what our family was dealing with had at the same time realized as I looked at my grieving mother, my husband and family that I could never let this go with out a fight. I knew that hard cold facts and truth about what had happened had to be revealed in order to help someone else.

Consequences
A Reality Check

Reality is harsh and most people do not want to read stories with endings such as these. We all want to read happy ending stories or believe that it would never be our own children who would do these things. We want to believe that our children are well, successful and educated. But are we as parents? Do we really know what is happening with our kids at any age when we let them go?
I didn’t and that is why I am writing this with honesty. I was not aware that my son’s heroin use would eventually kill him. I knew that he had tried it and he had told me he was done with it. He had just experimented with it he had told me and that he was done with it. I didn’t know about the drug and how powerful the strong hold it has on someone even after they stopped using. I didn’t know enough to help. I have never even known anyone in my life time to have actually used that drug. I know the stigma that was attached to heroin users, and of course this wasn’t and couldn’t be my son. He was attending college full time; he was a father who wanted more than anything to be a successful man and a great father to his children. But this drug took everything from him, it killed him and all of his dreams. Cody died of a heroine overdose and that was the end of his story. That is what people will remember him for.
Do not kid yourselves into thinking because of the following that your children may not They can be the children that are involved in church, sports. They can be the over achiever, the slacker…. They can be anyone of your children who attend church, college, athletes, scholars, musicians.
We want to sugar coat everything and make like things like this don’t happen in our neighborhoods, our communities, schools and families. Reality is that it is happening right now, today in your neighborhoods, community and schools. Drugs of all kinds are hitting our streets and most of them can be found in your homes, medicine cabinets. This is an epidemic killing our youth. It is out of control. The detective that handled our case had seen so many die and was in total agreement of bringing awareness to our communities. This is an epidemic of more than just the drug; it fills your entire being of shame, and guilt. Not only for the user but for the family and survivors of those that have overdosed. It ruins dreams, hopes, and destroys lives that eventually end in deaths and destruction of loved ones. Not only does the person that is suffering from drug addiction feel pain but all who have suffered thru the addiction or are survivors have grief.

What is the truth?
Is it possible to find truth?

“How did your son die?” I find it so hard to tell the truth when asked. I choke on the words and sometime I can’t bare the truth to say that my son died of a heroin overdose. I was aware that he had used in the past but didn’t have enough information about the drug to know now what I know. I was ashamed because I didn’t know enough about this drug to save my son. I wasn’t even aware of a drug epidemic before my son overdosed in July of 2012.
This has been happening for a long time to him and I didn’t see the signs, and I didn’t know until it happened to us. If I did maybe somehow we could have saved my son. Prayers just weren’t enough.
Now that some time has passed I’ve realized that I need to take a stand against this drug and cause. My son died of a heroin overdose. Why didn’t we see it coming? The ugly, horrible, honest truth. I have to call and name it what it is. I do not want any other mother to ever have to suffer the loss of what I felt when I lost my son to this senseless drug that is so addictive and easy to get.
Heroin as it is today, mostly pure on the streets, highly addictive, cheaper than a six pack is very attractive to many young people looking for a quick high and because of its potency will kill them. Yes, even the first time user could die and is always instantly hooked by the high. Heroin can be a lot like playing Russian roulette but not with a gun.
It will take everything from the person using it and all the family members involved. It robs, tears families apart, and brings much sorrow to all involved, even the user. It takes souls, life and everything that is important and anyone who dares to try it. It is an enemy that we need to stand against together to make a difference to bring awareness to our communities.

Healing
Is this possible?

I realized that I needed to forgive my self first. I was pushing everyone away. I was punishing myself and others who loved me or wanted to help.
I needed time to understand what had happened. I thought I needed to have someone else other than myself to blame, so I blamed myself for everything and took it out on the ones I loved because I didn’t want to suffer by myself. I judged, and pointed the finger to everyone and especially my self and my faith. I took everything in and let nothing go. Everything I believed in and lived was now a test of survival, faith and endurance.
I was walking in shoes that I didn’t want to be in. I hated these shoes. They are ugly shoes. Uncomfortable shoes. Each day I wore them, and each day I wish I had another pair. Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step. Yet, I continue to wear them. I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy. I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable. To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them. But, once you put them on, you can never take them off. I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes. There are many pairs in this world. Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much. Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt. No woman deserves to wear these shoes. Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman. These shoes have given me the strength to face anything. They have made me who I am. I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child to drugs, and someday I will be able to put them away.
When I hear so many good intentions of how to "get over it" or "not think about it”. If only they understood. I do not sit in a darkened room and dwell on my loss. I try so hard not to think about his last moments, what he thought, how he did it. I can understand how unhealthy those thoughts are.
How easily they take over and distract you from life. I understand and try to be so thankful for the precious 28 yrs of his life and the memories that go with those years. I want to move past the loss and remember his life and his love. I try to focus on my other son and my husband and family who are living. But despite my best intentions, the invasion is always there. It erupts when least expected. It battles the positive, and the good and the healing. It thrusts its ugly being into my thoughts, which momentarily takes my breath away each time. I challenge the grief everyday by making it through each day. I attempt to continue and bring my "Life" back. I understand that I have been changed and I accept that fact.
I know that the person I will become will be better and stronger individual. But this grief greedily seeks out my new self and batters at my very soul. It wants me...all of me. But I refuse to surrender or to have another grandmother, mother, father, sister, brother, and family go thru heartache like this if it can be stopped.
Time moves on. It always has and it forever will. What you do not understand, is that a lost parent does not move on with time. Like an antique watch, whose owner forgot to wind it and its gears have ground to a halt, a lost parent stops at that moment in time, however, no winding will ever begin the gears turning again. Nature, and the cycle of life, prepares you for the death of your grandparents, your parents, aunts and uncles and even siblings and partners. Nature, along with the cycle of life, says that time stands still for no one and naturally we live, learn, love, grow old and ultimately die.
This is natural and expected and so we are somewhat prepared. This is life and everyone dies. Everyone but your child…
The cycle of life says that a child buries their parent; Even though children die every day, still, it only happens to others, not to me, not to mine. Your heart says it is impossibility. And even after the impossible has happened, your heart and mind refuse to accept it.
Why? Because it is not natural; it is not a normal part of the cycle of life. Do we not create our children? Do we not physically and even emotionally create our children? Are they not true, physical extensions of our own being? How do you think you could possibly go on and be the same as you were if half of yourself is dead?
Finally after a few months and tremendous grieving I have forgiven my self and have prayed off the guilt that I should have known the signs. Because I was not aware that this drug was in our communities and so close to home that I could not have helped him. I did not know about this drug to know signs or symptoms of heroin use and would have never thought that my college aged son was using because he was doing well in school and had dreams for his life. Not knowing signs of drug abuse enabled him to continue his drug use which eventually robbed him of his dreams and stole his life. Dug abuse killed him.
I can no longer hold the guilt the drug has brought to me. We have choices in our life time and I did not make this choice for me or my son. He made this choice to do what he did and I have forgiven him but it is hard not to accept some responsibility. Forgiveness, acceptance, grieving and healing comes in stages. It can be overwhelming and hard on everyone. It takes time. By sharing my story, I free myself of this guilt so that I may go on, knowing that guilt festers like an open disgusting wound that never heals. I am healing by letting it go forever.
Since time has passed and healing has begun I have realized so many things that I didn’t realize before. I know now that even though my faith was tested that it stands firm today more than ever. I regained my faith by accepting and receiving His love from others who helped me through all of the pain, sorrow and final moments of laying my son to rest. I felt faith and love from those who shared with my grief, understood that I was in a dark place and needed rest and time to heal and let me alone with knowing I would again find myself and who I was before this awful tragedy that seemed to grow out of control. I was afraid of the darkness and the shadow of death but also know now that if there is a shadow, there is light and God is our light to get us through all things that seem impossible.

End Results
Bring awareness to our communities

Look at your child today. Stop what you are doing and thinking and take a moment to really look at your child, no matter how old or how young they are. Close your eyes and imagine, really and completely imagine, never again, not for as long as you live seeing their beautiful face, their incredible smile, the mystery in their eyes. Imagine, never again, not for as long as you breathe wrapping your arms around them and giving them a hug.
Imagine, really think about it and imagine, never, not even if you live to be one hundred years old, never again hearing the music of their voice say, “I love you mom” or “I love you dad.” Try, really try to image planning your son’s or daughter’s funeral and then standing there next to a gaping hole dug into the earth while your child’s casket sits there waiting to be lowered into it and then buried. Imagine being handed an urn, and knowing that the ashes within in it are all that remains of your child’s earthly vessel.
Really try to picture yourself in a cemetery, kneeling over your child’s grave on Christmas, Mother’s or Father’s Day, talking to and kissing a headstone that lies over your child’s earthly vessel, or clutching an urn to your chest so tightly that your breastbone feels as though it will cave in…

In conclusion
Faith, Healing and Hope is possible and so is awareness

Heroin and pain pill use has been on the rise in the suburbs. It's hard to open a newspaper these days without being hit with grim reports of another death due to opioid medication and heroin. You may also be unaware that drug overdose is now the leading cause of accidental death in Illinois, causing more fatalities than car accidents.
DARE TO BE AWARE!

Please let us stand together so this will not happen to someone you love or someone you know. We need to make sure that we are educating our young people, our parents, our doctors, and our health care workers about heroin. No one should die from an overdose. No one can stand alone either.

http://thehopeshare.drugfree.org/stor…/detail/a-mothers-cry1

The New Face of Heroin: Local lives changed by a choice
The Courier-News ~ A Chicago Sun Ties Publication
http://couriernews.suntimes.com/…/the-new-face-of-heroin-lo…

By Emily McFarlan Miller emcfarlan@stmedianetwork.com May 31, 2013 5:40PM

GENOA — It was an exceptionally hot day last July, and Debbie Bockstahler and her husband, Mike, had spent most of the day doing yard work at their home in Genoa.

At about 3:30 p.m., they had come inside to stir the spaghetti sauce that had been simmering on their stovetop all morning. That’s when the phone rang.

Mike Bockstahler tried to make sense of the voice on the other end of the phone line, his brother-in-law: Had they talked to Debbie’s mom? The police were at her home. She had found her grandson in the basement and, well, there was a investigation.

That’s how Debbie Bockstahler remembers the moment she learned her 28-year-old son Cody McCaulley was dead. He had overdosed on heroin.

“From that moment on, I declared I was not going to let another mother cry. I couldn’t believe it was happening,” she said.

“All of our lives changed over one choice.”

‘It’s not the bum’

The choice to use heroin is one an increasing number of young people in the Elgin area are making, and it’s a choice devastating an increasing number of mothers like Debbie Bockstahler of Genoa and Vicki Foley of St. Charles.

Last year, Kane County alone saw 27 heroin overdose deaths, a rapid increase over the four previous years, when the coroner’s office investigated eight, 10, seven and 11 heroin overdoses. That trend seems to be continuing, with seven Kane County deaths — possibly eight, pending toxicology reports — attributed to heroin.

Just last week, Elgin police conducting a citywide “arrest sweep” charged 16 suspected drug dealers with selling heroin. And the Illinois General Assembly passed a bill to create a Young Adult Heroin Use Task Force to investigate the drug’s seemingly sudden popularity with young adults in the suburbs.

But families like Debbie Bockstahler’s and Vicki Foley’s don’t need statistics and task forces to convince them heroin use is a problem in their communities. That problem already has hit home as both have lost sons to what Bockstahler calls an “epidemic.”


“I really think — I believe in my heart — that the stigma needs to be changed. It’s not like what you think: the bum underneath the bridge in dark clothing. These are beautiful children,” she said.

Cody McCaulley

McCaulley had moved back to Genoa from Pennsylvania more than a month before his death, trying to “change his life,” Debbie Bockstahler said. He had admitted he hadn’t been living a healthy lifestyle there, and she offered to take him to meetings or to rehab, his mom said.

“He had claimed he was clean and he was fine,” she said.

He started classes at Elgin Community College. He wanted to become a welder and to get custody of his kids, who were all still in Pennsylvania, she said. He mowed the lawn. He volunteered at the food pantry at St. Catherine of Genoa Catholic Church.

He didn’t seem withdrawn, Debbie Bockstahler said, just a little tired. But then, he was going to school full-time, and his schedule was different from hers.

He had some mood swings, she said, but then, “He’s 28 years old, coming back to Mom’s house.”

“I always thought a heroin addict looked horrible. He looked like this,” she said.

She pointed to a framed photograph in her living room, one she said she hasn’t been able to bring herself to display until recently. It’s the last photo of her son, taken just weeks before he died, his arm wrapped around his mom’s neck, his handsome, stubbled cheek pressed against her face.
She never saw “the nods,” the nodding off addicts often do because the drug is a “downer,” slowing physical, emotional and mental reactions. She had noticed his eyes, his pupils tightened to pinpoints, but she said she thought he might be taking Vicodin for residual pain after losing his finger in an accident years before.

“If I was aware at all what can happen, I would have been so different. I would have known what to do. I didn’t, and now I’m a statistic of someone that didn’t know,” Debbie Bockstahler said.

Chris Foley

Caylee Foley, 9, is a little piece of her dad, according to her grandma, Vicki Foley.

Curled up on the couch with a fleecy peace-sign blanket and a pillow with a photo of her dad, Caylee is up from downstate Gillespie to spend the summer wih her grandparents in St. Charles. She remembers her dad called her “Squeaky,” she said, but she was just 3 when he died.

Chris Foley had been “an average child. He was an A/B student. He was fun. He was loving. He was a good father,” Vicki Foley said.

But he, too, made a choice: first cigarettes, then marijuana, starting when he was 17 and moving out of his parents’ house at 18. He had money trouble, trouble with the law. He tried a number of drugs while in jail, she said, but “heroin was the one that snagged him.”

“He said, ‘Mom, I wake up every day, and it’s so wired in me, it just calls my name.”

His family saw all the signs, but his dad, Larry Foley, said that “you could be the best parent or the worst parent, and you don’t have control over what your child does when they leave the house.”

Then one day — one night, just as Vicki Foley was getting ready for bed — the knock came on the door: two policemen asking about her son. His mom had wondered if the day would come. She had hoped it wouldn’t.

A friend had made the 911 call. They had been at one of the family’s rental properties, and Chris Foley disappeared into the bathroom for about 15 minutes. He never came back.
Her son was dead at 27 of a heroin overdose.

Hope and healing

Now, Debbie Bockstahler said, “I’m part of a club I never wanted to join. But we all reach out to each other.”

She pointed to the teddy bear that came in the mail after McCaulley died, a gift from another mother who had lost a child to a heroin overdose.

And her living room is full of photos, printed from a computer and pasted on posterboard with dates — some just 17 years apart, some as recent as March. All are photos of young adults lost to heroin overdoses over the last few years, sent to her from all over the country by other parents she’s connected with online.

“I’ve got to bring this to the public so the public can see it,” she said.

Vicki Foley remembers, too, that several representatives of Geneva-based Hearts of Hope had signed the guestbook at her son’s visitation. She now gives her time and money to several organizations, including Hearts of Hope, which offers education, advocacy and support to those impacted by drug addiction.

She started her own nonprofit, Chris Walk, that will host its sixth night out against substance abuse in July in Batavia.

Her husband, Larry Foley, said he was surprised when they started Chris Walk. “The more you talk to people, everybody seems to know somebody who has an addiction problem.”

Both families advocate learning as much as possible about and looking for the signs of drug use, especially heroin: the nods, the pinpoint pupils, the behavioral changes, the poor complexion. That information is available through events like Chris Walk, groups like Hearts of Hope and on the Web, Vicki Foley said.

Be nosey, she said. It might start a fight, but it also might save a life.

And speak up, she said, because “it’s healing to be able to share those things and to know that .... Alcoholism and addiction of any kind carries such a stigma to it. A parent can carry so much guilt from that, so they need to share those emotions.”

Debbie Bockstahler said she still feels ashamed when people ask her how her son died. But until that stigma is removed, until people can talk about it and make others aware of the presence of heroin in the suburbs, they can’t stop it — they can’t find a cure for the epidemic.

“It’s so important to me because every parent needs to see the loss to stop it before it gets to be the last story,” she said.