When Chilliwack鈥檚 Kevin Sawatzky died of an overdose in the summer of 2020, Elizabeth Sawatzky was angry. Her husband of six years made one stupid and impulsive decision, and because of that she lost the love of her life. One word ran through her head endlessly.
Why?
Why would he do that? Why would he throw away his life so recklessly, and leave her alone to raise their teenaged daughter without a father?
Why?
Anger can make a person cynical and bitter and shut them off from the world. Elizabeth may have spiraled into darkness if not for the push of a button. She was at the funeral home the day Kevin was due to be cremated. Elizabeth was still very, very angry and maybe the person running the cremator recognized that because he asked her if she wanted to start the cremator.
Weird question, right? But yes. Yes she did. She was so mad at Kevin and so she stabbed that button.
鈥淲hen you鈥檙e so mad at somebody and you just want to punch them in the face, but you can鈥檛 because they鈥檙e dead, what do you do?鈥� Elizabeth asked. 鈥淵ou light them on fire.鈥�
She wrote a long letter to Kevin. She took his favourite book and put concert tickets and cards and other mementos within its pages. Those two items were cremated with him, and as she watched the flames through a little window a strange thing happened. She could feel the anger leaving her body. Elizabeth remembered the love and laughs and life they shared and she found peace with three words.
I forgive you.
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Two-and-a-half years later, it鈥檚 not easy for Elizabeth to talk about. There鈥檚 a reason we don鈥檛 often hear from the families of overdose victims, summed up in one word. Stigma. There鈥檚 stigma around drug users, who are considered weak and selfish for doing what they do. If they die, horrible as it sounds, people say, 鈥榃ell, they brought it on themself.鈥�
But there鈥檚 stigma on their family too. What did you do to cause this? What didn鈥檛 you do that might have prevented it? Why weren鈥檛 you a better brother/sister/mother/father/spouse? Those questions are magnified when someone 鈥榥ormal鈥� dies. When it鈥檚 someone from Vancouver鈥檚 downtown eastside, it鈥檚 assumed that person came from a trauma-filled upbringing and this was the inevitable result. When it鈥檚 a lawyer or banker or teacher, there must be a reason for what they did.
When Elizabeth and Kevin鈥檚 mother, Charlene Vermeer, were approached by Kwantlen Polytechnic University to tell their story in ,鈥� they didn鈥檛 hesitate. Elizabeth viewed the podcast as a 鈥渨eird academic thing鈥� that not a lot of people were going to listen to.
But when they were contacted by your friendly neighborhood Chilliwack Progress writer, that was different, because of the stigma.
鈥淭his is harder because this is my home community,鈥� Elizabeth admitted. 鈥淚 am really conflicted because part of me feels I need to put it out there and use my voice, but another part of me feels like putting this out there to my community is such a personal thing. But a friend of mine said to me, 鈥榃hat if it saves a life?鈥�
鈥淚f one mother doesn鈥檛 have to bury their child, it will be worth it,鈥� Charlene said.
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Kevin was 45 years old the day he died on June 29, 2020. He and a colleague from work decided to get high together.
Kevin had a history with drugs. Years ago, when he lived in Vancouver, he鈥檇 been addicted to heroin. He worked very hard to get off it, and Elizabeth made it a condition of their being together that if he ever started using again, she鈥檇 be gone. As far as she knew, he鈥檇 been clean for a long time.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if it was a complete one-off. Was there stuff I should have been looking for? Was I not paying attention?鈥� she still wonders. 鈥淎t the same time, I couldn鈥檛 live my relationship with him wondering if he was using substances again. If you鈥檙e trusting your spouse, you shouldn鈥檛 have to be checking all the time, even though in hindsight, maybe I should have been. Should I have been secretly drug testing him? I don鈥檛 know.
鈥淚t鈥檚 all whys and what-ifs.鈥�
During his darkest days of addiction, Kevin survived several near-death overdoses, and Elizabeth believes he felt a sense of invincibility. It was a Monday. She figured he was bored and he thought he鈥檇 be OK if he was safe about it. He was doing drugs with someone else, with a Naloxone kit nearby, and he assumed the drugs were from a safe supply.
That was the fatal mistake.
According to a coroner鈥檚 report, the drugs in his body were a toxic mix of crystal meth and fentanyl. The co-worker lost consciousness for several hours. By the time she came out of it, he was dead.
According to the B.C. Coroner鈥檚 Service, Kevin is now part of a sad statistic. He was one of 1,774 overdose deaths across B.C. in 2020, followed by 2,306 in 2021 and 2,272 in 2022. An average of 6.2 people per day are dying.
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鈥淚t was like it is in the movies, where the police come to your house and tell you what happened and you start screaming hysterically,鈥� Elizabeth says. 鈥淚t was exactly like that.鈥�
She remembers that night vividly. The knock on the door and the police officers on the doorstep. She thought Kevin had been in a car accident. When they said overdose, she felt shocked. It was so unexpected she couldn鈥檛 even process what was happening.
鈥淚 was sad and angry later, but at the time, I was just numb,鈥� she recalled.
Charlene called it the worst day of her life and admits she wanted to hit Elizabeth when she arrived with the devastating news that Kevin was dead. Two years later she still struggles. Charlene didn鈥檛 get to push the button on the cremator and have that moment of closure. There are times when she still feels very angry, when a bad memory comes back like a tidal wave. Like any parent who鈥檚 lost a child, she cries easily. But Charlene has learned that happy memories protect her from the horrible ones.
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Kevin鈥檚 death has left a void that can never be filled, but life does go on and he is a part of it. Throughout the hour long interview for this story his ashes sat on a nearby coffee table, listening in. There are so many things Elizabeth wanted to do with him, and she鈥檚 forging on. He鈥檚 been to their cabin. He flew with her to Calgary and he recently joined her on a trip to Hell鈥檚 Gate.
鈥淗e fits perfectly in a cup holder,鈥� she laughed.
Charlene took him to Jamaica and Elizabeth has videos from friends who鈥檝e taken 鈥榩ieces鈥� of Kevin to scatter in places around the world.
They are trying very hard to move on, and Elizabeth very much uses humour to mask pain that will never go away. If he were to return for just a few minutes, she says she鈥檇 tell him she loved him, and she misses him.
鈥淎nd I don鈥檛 know what I鈥檓 going to do with the rest of my life without him here.鈥�
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Elizabeth and Charlene are sharing this story because they want to spare others from what they鈥檝e endured.
Elizabeth has replayed Kevin鈥檚 death over and over in her mind and she鈥檚 concluded there鈥檚 nothing she could have done to prevent it. But now, she says she can be a voice to help others and advocate for change. Elizabeth and Charlene have become passionate advocates for controversial health measures like a safe drug supply and safe injection sites.
Elizabeth believes that if Kevin had done drugs in a place where he was being supervised, he鈥檇 probably still be alive. If the drugs came from a safe supply, he鈥檇 almost certainly still be alive.
The word 鈥榚nabling鈥� is thrown out as a counter argument to these things, and Elizabeth and Kevin talked about this before he died. Speaking from experience he told her that without a safe supply, you spend every day 鈥榙oing the grind,鈥� looking for money however you can get it, then looking for your dealer.
鈥淚f you鈥檙e doing those things all day, every day, you have no time to do anything else, how can we expect those people to attend a program or service or access resources?鈥� Elizabeth asked.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 their sole purpose, figuring out how to get their next fix,鈥� Charlene added.
The other argument is cost. Using tax dollars to supply drugs to drug users isn鈥檛 a popular thing.
鈥淎nd that鈥檚 true. It does come out of our pockets,鈥� Charlene conceded. 鈥淏ut so does the ambulance ride, and the police and medical staff that are out there. The Naloxone kits we鈥檙e paying for and the overloaded hospitals. You鈥檙e paying for it when your insurance goes up because you were robbed by someone trying to supply their habit. There are so many things we鈥檙e already paying for, so why not pay to save a life?鈥�
eric.welsh@theprogress.com
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