We had been looking for Sara-Jane for four days when two police officers showed up in front of her father in Ottawa.
Posted at 5:00 a.m.
“There’s no easy way to tell you what I need to tell you… Your daughter was found dead in her dorm room. »
Sara-Jane Béliveau was 24 years old and had her life ahead of her. A law and international development student at the University of Ottawa, she wanted to change the world. Until his world collapses and an overdose leads him to death.
His father Alain, in shock, did not want to believe him.
“My daughter is dead? What ? My little girl that I held in my arms when she was a baby! My beautiful big daughter…dead? »
The voice of her mother, Isabelle Fortier, breaks as she speaks to me of that day in May 2019 when her ex-husband, Sara-Jane’s father, called her. Shock. The torrent of tears. Then the announcement of the terrible news to his son, mad with concern for his sister who no longer answered her cell phone. When he knew, he screamed. A heartbreaking cry that the mother evokes in a whisper. As if she was trying to wrest an unspeakable pain from the silence.
Isabelle, who did a certificate in drug addiction after the death of her daughter, often repeats: Sara-Jane is not only a victim of our ineffective mental health and drug policies, but she is also a victim of the misinformed gaze that we put on the thing.
In reality, it was the stigma that killed Sara-Jane.
Isabelle Fortier, whose daughter died of an overdose
Had it been otherwise, her daughter, who suffered from anxiety disorder and borderline personality disorder, might have been open about her drug use. She could have gone for the help she needed. She would not have run into the revolving doors of the health care system.
“The system failed in Sara-Jane’s case. On four occasions, she could have been taken care of effectively and that was not done. This caused his mental state to deteriorate, and his consumption, which was his way of self-medicating, to increase. »
For many bereaved parents, the stigma continues after the death of their child. They will not have the right to the same empathy and the same support as if their child had died of cancer. As if death by overdose were less “noble”.
As if drug addiction was seen not as a real health problem, but as a personal failure. In addition to forgetting what Philippe Mercure’s report that we published on Saturday clearly shows: no one is immune to an overdose.
“Even if our child does not suffer from an addiction or mental health problem, he can, for example, consume recreationally and be exposed to the same risks. »
In memory of Sara-Jane, Isabelle has been moving heaven and earth for more than three years to change things. She joined the group Moms Stop the Harm, launched in British Columbia in 2016 by bereaved mothers. They were three at the beginning. Over 4,000 people have joined the group since. Mothers first, but also fathers, brothers, sisters, friends… People who have seen loved ones die by overdose and who want to put an end to stigmatization and silence.
Isabelle, who lives in Montreal, considers herself privileged to have been well surrounded to experience her grief and to be able to talk about it without feeling judged. But she finds within this pan-Canadian group that too many bereaved parents, especially outside the big cities and in more conservative circles, experience this type of bereavement in complete isolation. “Sometimes there are family members who no longer speak to them. There are also mothers who have received anonymous letters from people in the neighborhood. Letters really not fine, filled with judgment…”
The situation is certainly different in Quebec, where we talk about harm reduction, where there are supervised injection sites and where naloxone, an antidote to opioid overdoses, is free.
Despite these advances, Isabelle still struggles to rally people around her cause. “There is still something that is taboo. »
Realizing that there was almost nothing in Quebec to help grieving loved ones after an overdose death, Isabelle worked to set up a first bereavement support group in French led by peer helpers. The project is only virtual for the moment, for lack of personnel. It does not replace the support of psychology professionals. But it is already a step in the right direction.
The Legault government’s national overdose prevention strategy includes strengthening support measures for bereaved people. Isabelle intends to hound him to make this happen. And after two hours of listening to her speak to me with heart and conviction of the fight she leads in memory of her daughter, I was convinced of one thing: she will not let go.
PHOTO ROBERT SKINNER, THE PRESS
Isabelle Fortier got a fox tattoo in memory of her daughter.
Sara-Jane passed the torch to her, she tells me, gently running her fingers over the fox tattoo she got in her memory.
“She’s my little vixen. I have it with me, always… My daughter is a beautiful star who unfortunately will no longer shine. But it is always there, it animates us and gives us strength. »
The tattoo often raises questions. When the mother explains her origin, people are sometimes uncomfortable. Isabelle reassures them. She is not only comfortable talking about it, but also convinced that it can save lives and right injustices. Everything that her little vixen dreamed of leaving too soon.
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For information on Moms Stop the Harm in Quebec, bereavement support groups facilitated by peers and Café-deuil, in collaboration with the Quebec Association for the Promotion of the Health of People Using Drugs and the Compassionate Community of South West: [email protected]