Beckett’s death ‘taught me I can’t save anyone,’ says Melissa Etheridge.

Melissa Etheridge says that her sadness over the death of her son Beckett is “endless.” The “Come to My Window” singer talked to The Daily Beast about her son Beckett, whom she had with her ex-girlfriend Julie Cypher and whose sperm was donated by David Crosby. Beckett will die of an opioid overdose at age 21 in 2020.

She said that her family is still getting over his death, and she talked about what he had taught her through his death. The mother of four said this about being a mother: “Even if my son died tomorrow and I couldn’t change anything about his life, I wouldn’t change a thing.” To know that kind of love, and all the life lessons he taught me… “

She said, “He taught me that I can’t save anyone else, and I’m not supposed to.” This is the most important thing she has learned. The best thing I could do for him was to be true to myself, love myself, take care of myself, and try to show him that. He never figured out that part, but by then he was already on drugs. “

Etheridge said that Beckett had been in a “downward spiral” of drug use since he was 17. He was training to be a professional snowboarder, and it was said that he wanted to compete in the X Games. For an ankle injury, he was given painkillers, which led to drug abuse. Etheridge said that the injury “broke his life” because it stopped him from doing what he loved. It hurt his sense of self-worth.

Etheridge said that as a parent, she did everything she could to help him, including sending him to treatment programmes and sometimes giving him a hard time.

“It was four years of going downhill, and I kept thinking, ‘We’ll keep putting him in programmes,’ ‘You’ve got to learn this, get this,'” she said. But, “Life was too hard for him, and if drugs were an easy way out, I can see why he did it.” I’ve always been happy, but he never really was… Then I had to watch him slowly get worse for four years. I signed him up for things.

I stopped him. You do everything that comes to mind. You think, “There must be something I can do. I can teach him. I can give him this as a punishment. I can make a difference.’ Then, near the end, I finally realised, “I can’t do anything else. I know I could get a call any day telling me he’s dead. He has to decide. It’s all he does. He needs to figure out what to do. He chose to do these things. “

Heartbreakingly, she said, “By the time he died, I wasn’t surprised.” “I was very, very sad. Since four days ago, I hadn’t heard from him. They sent police officers to check on him, and then they told me, “He’s gone.”

She has second thoughts about how she dealt with everything and says, “The guilt and shame will eat you up.” It was a lot of trouble. It took our whole family a while to get better. We still are. We talk about him, and we honour him. We like to remember how funny and happy he was. He is still with us, and we help each other keep guilt and shame from coming into our home.

But, she said, the sadness is “endless.” I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him. I can’t help but think about him all the time. He helps me now because he knows I have to turn those thoughts into happiness and can’t let them make me sad. That’s not helpful. He doesn’t want that, and he doesn’t feel any pain right now.


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