Coming Back Stronger (24 page)

There are some trials in life that you wonder how you’ll ever get through. My mother’s death was one of those. The news came on August 7, 2009, and I left training camp immediately to be with my family. I can honestly say that was one of the toughest experiences of my life.

My mom was an outstanding athlete from a sports-minded family, as well as a successful attorney in Austin, Texas, and at one time the president of the Austin Bar Association. But I didn’t know her as an attorney or a political figure in town. I just knew her as my mom, the one who took care of my bumps and bruises. She gave me opportunities to play the sports I loved and get the best education I could. She was the one who sat beside me and helped me decide to continue with football when I was ready to quit in high school. She helped foster a vision of who I could be and encouraged me to go after my dreams. I owe a lot to my mother for these things.

My mother was there for me during a lot of crucial points in my childhood, yet there were also many times I needed her and she wasn’t there. She had a pattern of unhealthy relationships, and as I progressed through high school, I gradually gained the maturity to see that ours was headed in the same direction. She was consumed with getting her own way, even if it wasn’t in the best interest of her children. This caused some tense moments between us. But starting in my junior year of college through my first year in the NFL, the relationship with my mom really started to deteriorate. There were a variety of factors that created even more turmoil, and soon the divide between us became so wide that we spent the next eight years barely speaking to one another. It seemed like we could never get on the same page, and whenever we did get together, it resulted in emotionally charged confrontations. These issues took a toll on both of us, and it wasn’t until after her death that I found out the reasons for many of these problems.

Brittany and I turned to the church and our faith more than ever during that time. For our premarital counseling, we met with a psychologist who volunteered at the church, and we were able to talk about the issues with my mom. The psychologist recognized immediately that the problems that existed between us were not normal in a parent-child relationship, and there could be something else going on. It was the first time someone had opened my eyes to the fact that my mom could be suffering from mental illness. As a kid, I never thought that my parent would have a problem like that. I was so accustomed to the extreme highs and the depressed lows that her behavior seemed normal to me. Had I only known then what I know now, I could have handled the situation differently. I ask myself the question often: Could I have saved her?

By the time I moved to New Orleans in the spring of 2006, Mom and I weren’t communicating for long stretches. I felt like I was losing out on time with the family I used to be so close with. I tried to compartmentalize the situation with my mom so I could focus on all the positive things going on in my life. We were having a great season as a Saints team that year, and it was an unbelievable experience to be part of the resurgence of this city. But I couldn’t shut out the effects of the separation from my mom. There was a piece of me that was always hurting for her because of the strain we had experienced. I had no idea what the future of our relationship would be—or even if there was a future for us. The only way I knew how to cope with it was to pray every night for her and for our relationship and to throw myself into every other aspect of my life, hoping that would make up for her absence.

When we found out Brittany was pregnant in 2008, a big thought looming in the back of our minds was my mom. When and how were we going to tell her? What kind of relationship would she have with our child? Would she do the same kinds of hurtful things to my child that she had done to me? How would Brittany and I handle it when she hit one of her dark periods like she so often did? As a parent, I knew I would give my life for my child, but I never thought I’d have to protect my child from my own parent. I had long since forgiven my mother and hoped she had forgiven me. But what you can forgive, you sometimes shouldn’t forget. You have to remember if you’re going to learn from those mistakes.

During her pregnancy, Brittany e-mailed back and forth often with my mom. She kept her up-to-date on her doctor visits, her due date, and the baby’s progress. For quite some time my mom had been looking forward to a teaching trip to Ukraine. She would be gone for six months on a Fulbright teaching scholarship, working as an instructor at the University of Kiev. Things seemed to be looking up. She left in January, a few days after Baylen’s birth. During that time, Brittany e-mailed pictures of Baylen and corresponded with my mom while she was in Ukraine. Mom and Brittany seemed to be getting closer through the communication. They also found common ground in talking about Ukraine, since Brittany is 50 percent Ukrainian. Mom even sent some small gifts to us from the country, and that meant a lot to Brittany. “I think things are getting better,” she said to me once. There was an encouraging sign that spring when Mom e-mailed me from Ukraine: “Oh, I can’t wait to meet my little grandson.” I read those words and felt a flicker of hope for the future. We weren’t there yet, but we were at least moving forward.

Mom was due back in the United States in the summer, and we were trying to figure out a time for her to visit that would work around her schedule and the start of the 2009 season. As I looked forward to the possibility of her visit, I had really mixed feelings. On one hand, after our communications while she was in Ukraine, I felt very eager to reconnect. On the other hand, the last face-to-face meeting between us had not gone well. Plus, Brittany and I were still unsure as to the role my mom would play in Baylen’s life. I was hoping to begin a new chapter in the relationship with my mom, but there is no way to candy-coat history. The full truth is that my mom and I had a toxic relationship. When we were together, I felt like I was a different person. The negativity turned me into someone I did not want to be. I prayed about it constantly. I asked God to help us communicate and have a relationship. I searched for Bible verses that would help. I asked family members and friends for advice. But no matter how much I prayed and searched, I couldn’t get past Mom’s destructive attitude and how low I felt whenever we talked. After eight years of trying to salvage things, I was discouraged by how little progress had been made.

I loved my mother very much, and I always will. I never intended to hurt her, although I know I did. And now I don’t want to hurt anyone who knew her and respected her by telling my side of our story. After all, she was my mother. But our relationship was a consistently difficult one. It was always on my mind, no matter what was happening around me. A lot has been written over the years speculating about what really happened between us. I’m hoping that others with strained relationships will find a little comfort and direction from my experiences, and maybe even learn from our mistakes. I truly believe people are brought into our lives for many reasons. Whatever those relationships are like, they teach us lessons. It’s what you learn from those situations that makes you who you are. I made many mistakes with my mother and our relationship. There are so many things that now I wish I could change or would do differently. I learned that there are many things she did that I will never do as a parent. I have also learned that a lot of the best of my mom lives in me. At this point I have to forgive myself and learn my lessons.

On the first Friday in August, in the middle of training camp, Brittany came to the Saints practice facility unexpectedly. We had just finished practice, and Sean Payton came up to me. “Drew, Brittany is here. You need to go talk to her.” I looked over at her holding Baylen, and immediately I could feel that something was very wrong. Although Brittany had brought Baylen to practices plenty of times, this was a closed practice, and under normal circumstances, no one would be allowed in.

I ran to her. She said, “Hold your son, Drew. I am going to tell you something, but I need you to hold your son. I need you to know we are going to get through this.”

I took Baylen in my arms and sat down. She started to sob but was able to muster the strength to say, “Baby, your mom just passed away.” All I could do was hold my son and my wife and cry. My heart sank to the ground, and I couldn’t speak. What happened? We’d been planning her visit, and now we were planning her funeral instead.

Brittany said that she had gotten the call from my brother, Reid, and it appeared to be a suicide. I could not believe what I was hearing. This had to be a bad dream. I took some time with Brittany and Baylen and then tried to gather myself before going in to talk with Sean. I thought I was fine when I walked into his office, but the minute he stood up, I could see the sympathy in his eyes. I lost it. It took me a while to rein in my emotions before sitting down and talking about what had happened. Sean and I talked for a long while, and his words were very comforting at a difficult time. He was there to listen, and he also had some words of wisdom and encouragement as I dealt with this loss, both short-term and long-term. He told me to take as much time as I needed. “Allow yourself to grieve,” he said. “You don’t ever want to look back and realize you didn’t let yourself feel what you needed to feel. We all handle the death of a loved one in different ways, but make sure you take enough time to do it properly. Don’t worry about getting back here. We will be here for you when you return.”

I walked very slowly back to my locker, still in a daze about the news I had heard. I gathered my things and tried to leave as quickly as possible, so as to not draw attention from any of my teammates. I called my brother as soon as I could to make sure he was okay and to find out exactly what had happened. I was waiting for him to tell me this was all a horrible joke or a big misunderstanding. He didn’t. I asked him if it was possible that it wasn’t a suicide or if there was some kind of confusion. It had to have been an accident. My brother confirmed my worst fear, as he had been the one who talked to the police that day. My mother had been visiting a friend in Colorado. She had packed prescription sleeping pills, pain pills, and antidepressants, some of which dated back to the 1990s.

I flew out to Denver the next day to be with my brother and to see my mother one last time. Being with Reid that day, when we were both in such a vulnerable state, felt right. We had been the two most important people in Mom’s life, and it seemed appropriate for us to be able to say good-bye to her together. Having this time with Reid made it all a little easier.

My mom had left handwritten notes for certain people when she passed away. One of those notes was for me and Brittany and another was for Baylen. It was very hard to read them, but I hoped there would be some answers in them. As we started getting more information, the reality began to sink in that she had indeed taken her own life. The question that haunted all of us was “Why?”

We were hoping the cause of death would stay private, but unfortunately it became public once the toxicology report and autopsy were final. It took three months to get the official results, and we thought maybe by then the media would just leave it alone. They didn’t. It’s devastating enough to deal with the death of a parent, but facing her suicide seemed almost unbearable.

In the three weeks after her passing, as we all talked and worked through things as a family, I probably learned more about my mom than I had known my whole life. I had no idea about her early days and the secret mental and emotional problems she’d had. Even from childhood, she’d dealt with those demons by disguising them or hiding them. Family members tried to confront her and get her help, but she would become defensive and deny she had a problem. Her struggles only worsened as she got older. She certainly didn’t talk about these issues with Reid and me, and she did her best to be there for us and be the best mother she could be in spite of her illness.

Mom’s death was a crushing blow to our entire family. We made it through the memorial services, but they were extremely tough and emotional. I really appreciated all the people who came to the services to support our family. Our team owner, Tom Benson, flew Coach Payton and my closest teammates to the service. I hope they all know how much that meant to me.

Sometimes the best way to heal is by knowing how many people care. There’s no way to describe the pain and all the questions that haunt you after something like that happens. I still couldn’t accept the fact that my mom would never see her grandson. It was all she had talked about for the last six months—how excited she was to hold that little boy. I was overcome with feelings of regret, sadness, and shame that bubbled up from deep inside.

For the first time I was starting to realize how much her constant, internal pain drove her to do some of the things she did. It didn’t excuse her behavior, but things made more sense to me. And when I thought about how she took her own life, I knew she must have been in such a lonely, dark place for her to feel like that was the only option. Instead of being angry at her for the ultimate selfish act, I felt sad for her. I knew she had acted out of her pain.

Even with my new perspective about Mom’s history, the first few weeks after her death were filled with confusion and unanswered questions. I felt anger at her for leaving us, guilt for not reaching out more effectively, and remorse over our strained relationship.

I also struggled with the spiritual implications of her choice. I sought counsel from people who know a lot more about the Bible than I do. Some Christians believe suicide is an unpardonable sin. They think God can’t forgive such a heinous act. But friends and spiritual leaders in my life were able to show me how the Scriptures reveal the depth of God’s love. The way to a relationship with God isn’t by doing good things or keeping rules. My mom made mistakes in her life, but so have I. All of us have. The way to an eternal relationship is by accepting the grace God offers us. Had my mom asked for God’s forgiveness as she had taken her own life? Did she have God’s grace in her heart when she passed? If you have God’s grace in your life, you can’t be separated from him by a bad decision. Understanding more of the love of God gives me the comfort that my mother really is in heaven. And I feel confident she will be smiling down on us forever, because that is what she promised in her letter to me.

I had agonized over the broken relationship with my mother for many years. When she died, the truth about her emotional problems and mental issues spilled onto the deck of my life. That was the most intense time of mourning I’ve ever experienced. But gradually God started bringing healing in my life. I came to the realization that Mom was no longer in pain. I didn’t have to hurt for her any longer. That relieved me, and in a way it gave me strength and enabled me to use all the concern and worry I once had for her in more constructive ways. I felt that for once in her life, my mother was finally at peace. Mom’s death also brought the rest of the family much closer. We needed each other to mourn, and after going through that difficult crucible, we’re stronger now than we’ve ever been. I never would have chosen to go down that path. But somehow God has brought good out of it anyway.

As the 2009 season got underway, the grief lessened and I began to see all the great times I’d had with my mom and all the good things she had given me. In a way, everything I’d been through gave me an incredible internal strength I never would have had otherwise. Who would have guessed that a season that started out in the midst of such a dark valley would end up on a mountaintop.