There are moments when I close my eyes, and for a second, it’s like nothing has changed. I can still hear his voice, see the way he smiled, and feel his presence. And then reality crashes in—Garet is gone, and life has continued without him. That realization is something I will never fully make peace with, but I am learning to accept this fact.
Garet was my firstborn, my sweet boy who grew into a young man with a heart bigger than he ever gave himself credit for. He cared deeply about others, was always willing to help, and was always the one who made people laugh. But he never showed himself the same grace and kindness that he gave so freely to the world.
After losing Garet, one of my biggest fears was that time would steal him from me—that the sound of his laugh would fade, that people would stop saying his name, and that his favorite things would sit untouched and forgotten. But I refuse to let that happen. Garet was more than the way he left this world. He was light, laughter, curiosity, and love. And though he isn’t physically here, I carry him with me every single day—in the little things, in the memories, in the moments that remind me of him.
The Little Things That Keep Him Close
In our living room sits a curio cabinet that holds some of Garet’s most cherished things. His ashes rest there, surrounded by pieces of his life—photos of us together, pictures of him and Kaden, and little treasures that remind us of who he was. Garet loved fantasy and dragons, so inside the curio is a black and purple dragon I made for him, a piece of his imagination brought to life. I still have the picture he sent me of himself and his dragon, one of the last little glimpses into his world.
He had a fascination with tiny things—tiny locks, tiny plushies—little objects he kept scattered around his room, always within reach. Oh, his love for plushies? He got that from me. He never outgrew them, and I loved that about him! They weren’t just toys to him—they were companions, comfort, pieces of his childhood that he never let go of.
Garet also had a passion for magic and adventure, whether it was playing Wizards 101, Magic: The Gathering, or Dungeons & Dragons. And then there were his video games—Skyrim, Call of Duty. He could lose himself in those worlds, fascinated by the stories and adventure. When I see those games now, I can still picture him there, controller in hand, completely immersed. It’s bittersweet, but it also brings me comfort. And when I hear certain voices from those games? It’s like a flashback in time—listening to him game, hearing the excitement in his voice.
His Love for Survival & Preparedness
Garet also had an interest in survival. From watching wilderness survival shows to researching online, he was always thinking ahead. He built up his own little survival toolkit, always making sure he had the essentials. I still have some MREs that he purchased—‘just in case.’
That was Garet. Always learning, always preparing, always thinking ahead.
A Space for Him, A Space for Us
This curio cabinet isn’t just a place to hold his things—it’s a place where our family can feel close to him. It’s where we can leave things for him, where we can talk to him, where we can keep his memory alive in a way that feels tangible. His favorite color was purple, so you’ll find little touches of it inside—reminders of him woven into every piece.
Carrying Him With Me—Always
Recently, I got a tattoo to carry him with me forever—Stitch holding Garet’s favorite plush toy, a giraffe simply named ‘Raffie.’ Garet and I loved Stitch, and I knew this was the perfect way to honor him. Every time I look at it, I think of him. It’s my way of keeping a piece of him with me, always.
Sometimes, when I miss him most, I’ll get Raffie out and hold him close, letting the memories flood in. It doesn’t take the pain away, but it makes me feel close to him for a little while. It lets me remember that once upon a time, all he needed was Raffie and Mom to make things okay.
The Things That Made Him Smile
Garet had such a unique mix of favorite things. He loved Jack and Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. As a kid, he adored Monsters, Inc. and never grew tired of watching Monster House. And then there was Cast Away—a movie that, for some reason, he always loved.
Keeping Garet’s memory alive isn’t just about what I keep—it’s about what I do.
I Will Never Stop Saying His Name
I refuse to let his name fade from conversation. I talk about him. I share stories about him with my other children, with friends, with anyone who will listen.
He existed. He mattered. And I will always make sure people know that.
Some people don’t believe in signs, but I do. There are moments—little, unexplainable things—that make me feel like he’s still here in some way. Maybe it’s a song playing at just the right time, a dragonfly hovering close to me, or just an overwhelming feeling of his presence.
These moments bring comfort, and I hold onto them.
Turning Grief Into Purpose
Losing Garet to fentanyl was something I never imagined, something I never could have prepared for. I didn’t see the signs until it was too late. He wasn’t out of control. He worked. And sadly, he lied—just like so many others.
Now, I speak out because his story could save someone else’s life.
I share it because I wish someone had told me more before it was too late.
This, too, is how I keep his memory alive—by using his story to make a difference.
I Now Live to Honor Him
Some days, the grief still feels unbearable, even three years later. Some days, keeping his memory alive hurts because it reminds me of everything I’ve lost. Those days are heavy and hard, both physically and mentally exhausting.
But I will never stop saying his name.
Never stop remembering.
Never stop loving him.
He may not be here physically, but he is still part of me. He is part of our family. He is part of everything I do. He is still a piece of my heart.
💜 If you have a special way you honor a loved one, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. Let’s carry their light forward—together. 💜
~Mandy
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