As spoken by Heidi, Amara’s mom, at the Second Annual Remembrance Walk on September 11, 2024, as she addressed the people who gathered to honor their lost loved ones
What can I say about our daughter, Amara? How can I express how special she was? Special enough to start and name a foundation for…that’s how special she was.
Amara was one of my very best friends. All of my children are, and of course, my husband. We were a tight family…Amara led the group of her siblings in age…then came Kristen…then Jacob…then the baby, Hallie. Amara was the one the others looked up to for so long. I’ll never ever forget all the times over the years we were together, just laughing and being goofy and just being happy knowing we were a family that would do anything for each other.
When she started getting sick, confusion and pain entered our tight circle. Anger, too. I know you understand. We were all so confused, we didn’t understand what was happening, and at times, we still don’t know what happened and why. The years she was in the throes of addiction threw us all in a spiral. We never stopped loving her, but when addiction hits a family, the world stops looking so bright…the shadow followed us everywhere. For the first time, Amara and our family were affected with the stigma that goes with having a loved one struggling, and I want to say this loud and clear, STIGMA HAS NO PLACE here.
Now that she’s gone, we still hurt. We will never be the same, as many of you know…you’ve been through it, too.
That’s why we are here. We refuse to remember how the disease changed them—and we refuse to think of how fentanyl had the last word. WE HAVE THE LAST WORD in this battle, this epidemic…we are overcoming the evil with good. Genesis 50:20 says, “You meant evil against me, but God made it for good in order to bring this present result, to preserve the lives of many people..” We stand on that. We hope that you do, too.
We have no choice but to move forward. We had our time of sorrow, our time of overwhelming pain where we couldn’t function day to day. I spent weeks in bed after she died, just staring at the wall and crying—and crying out to God, WHY? She wasn’t coming home ever again. Even today, and I know you are experiencing this too, I wake up and know she’s gone. I go to bed and talk to her, hoping she can hear me. Thoughts of her pop up in my mind all through the day…still…and I know that will continue until the day I die. She was my daughter…how can it not? You know! Huge pieces of our hearts and souls are gone…for now. Please, please, join me in the comfort of knowing we WILL be reunited with them someday. But for now, we still hurt and miss them something raw.
My hope is knowing that she is free. She is happy. And she is waiting for me and our family. And she—and your loved one, too—want us to remember them, of course, but they want us to fight. Fight to save others. Warn other people…raise awareness with us…this is a battle, and we are all the warriors.
This foundation was named after our daughter, but this foundation is not just about her, it’s about all of you AND your loved ones—all about you and what you can do to help—in honor of who you lost or who you have struggling. Tonight we remember them…we walk for them…our candle lights will shine up into heaven, and they will be watching! I know they will. Let’s give them a light show that will let them know they will never be forgotten and they are martyrs who did not die for nothing. Selah.
