Guest Blog by Eric Toft

Nicholas Toft, his son, Noah and his dad, Eric Toft

Live Like An Eagle by Eric Toft

Many things in life can bring you to your knees. Like being fired from a job, especially when you feel you didn’t do anything wrong. I was also upset about being walked out of the maintenance shop the day the company fired me.

Losing my job drained the blood right out of me and increased my stress level. I was raising a family with two boys, Jason and Nick, and their mom, and we had pets to feed and bills to pay. How the heck am I going to manage the finances without a job? Will I be able to find another job, and how long will it take?  

Instead of finding a job, I started a handyman business. At the time, my wife had been homeschooling our boys. But we decided it was best for her to return to work because our kids were older and in school, and we needed help with the finances.

Our youngest son, Nick, had been fighting addiction since he was 15 years old. In the beginning of his addiction, I was in denial. Although I knew valuable items were missing from the house, I didn’t want to believe it. I also struggled to accept that my wife was enabling Nick’s addiction. In so doing, I eventually enabled him as well.

For the next several years, Nick kept repeating the destructive pattern. One trip after another to inpatient rehab facilities. Out and clean for three to four months. And then back to the drugs. It was a vicious cycle that included stealing valuable items from the house and always being broke and unable to pay his bills. I was blissfully unaware that his mother was paying his bills and how much money she gave him. The breaking point came when his mother bailed Nick out and used our house as collateral to cover the bail. I was pissed, stupefied, and still unable to act decisively.

Eventually, the day arrived when the reality of Nick’s addiction hit me. I recognized its seriousness when I heard he got lost while driving northbound on I-95. That was unlike the son I knew, who was certified as a Civil Air Patrol search-and-rescue person. He didn't need maps or a compass. 

Nick was a very good car salesman. Sometimes he sold 8 to 10 new cars a week. He was earning $5,000 a week but was always broke. It didn't add up. But the lies began to add up. One lie after another to cover up the addiction. There was no denying it anymore. I finally told myself I had had enough.

During one of his six rehab visits, Nick felt he no longer needed it and left. As he was leaving, I confronted him and told him that he needed to stay in rehab because I was seeing the destructive pattern he kept repeating. He didn’t listen and left. 

Nick headed to Baltimore, and it didn’t take long for him to be broke and sleeping in his car. By this time, his mother and I were divorced. Nick reached out to his mother, brother, and me for money, and we also said, “No.” This led to the beginning of the end for Nick.

On the evening of October 5, 2023, I received a voicemail from David, my ex-wife's new husband, instructing me to call him as soon as possible. I had a gut feeling it wasn’t going to be good news. 

I called David back and got the obligatory question people ask when bad news is about to be shared. Are you sitting down? 

Nick’s gone. I answered. 

Yes, Eric. David said.

I asked David if he knew any details of how he died. He did. The detective told him that Nick was found in a hotel room. He had five types of paraphernalia in his possession, one of which involved fentanyl. The detective said he had seen this suicide-by-needle scenario many times and that it was common in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. 

For the first few weeks after Nick passed away, I struggled to manage my grief. I felt as though my world had been turned upside down. I was a US Navy sailor, and emotions are not my strong suit. This was a hole that you couldn't put a Band-Aid on. It was a continuously sucking void as big as my torso, like a black hole through my body, and the emotions and stuff just kept coming and disappearing into that void of loss. I have learned that everyone feels grief differently, and some people truly understand when I describe my giant sucking black hole experience.

What made Nick’s death and grief more devastating was that I had retired three weeks earlier. I was looking forward to my early retirement and the plans I had made to enjoy my senior years. But the thrill of retirement was short-lived because I had to spend my time grieving Nick’s death and find ways to fill the time at home that would normally be replaced with work at the office. Therefore, I had plenty of time to think and reflect on Nick’s life and death. 

Behind my house is a big oak tree that covers part of the house and backyard, and there is also a pond. I sat on the patio in an Adirondack chair, smoking a cigar. I thought about Nick and cried. I wondered how Nick was doing in his new afterlife and prayed for a sign to know he was okay and to comfort me. 

Minutes later, a beautiful bald eagle appeared in the sky. It landed on a branch in the backyard, less than 10 feet from me. Nick’s favorite bird was an eagle, and his ashes are kept in an urn. An eagle is emblazoned on the side.

I quickly turned on my phone camera to film the eagle,  made eye contact with it, and started a conversation. I asked if he was Nick. The eagle responded with a slight swivel of its head, as if it was saying Yes, it's me, old man!

If that’s you, show me that you’re okay. I said out loud.  

Seconds later, the eagle spread its six-foot wingspan, flew off the branch, and dove towards the pond. Then flew up to a higher altitude, which I estimated to be about 60 feet or more. He paused for a moment, then dove toward the pond again at high speed, plunged into the water, caught a fish with his talons, flew back up into the sky, and landed on the metal roof of my house. After the eagle dropped the fish, I heard its talons make several clanging noises as if to say, I’m okay, Dad; I’m an eagle now!

For a moment, I felt some relief and peace. But I quickly realized I needed help and began attending several grief support groups hosted by churches and non-profit grief organizations. I eventually chose Grief Recovery After Substance Passing because its curriculum appealed to me the most. GRASP’s mission is to provide a safe, non-judgmental forum so that people grieving the loss of a loved one to substance use may share their feelings, stories, struggles, strategies, and support with each other, honor their loved ones, and grieve their losses. 

GRASP and the support I received from the members played a pivotal role in helping me manage my grief. It gave me clarity, confidence, and courage to deal with my grief in a healthier way.

Noah, Nicholas (Dad) and Owen.

I have always felt like I had a spirit guide since I was about 10 years old. What I discovered on this journey of grief is that there is a thin spot in the veil between the living and the spirit world. I believe that part of managing grief in a healthier way is convincing myself that Nick is okay by finding a way to connect with the spiritual world. I felt that if I looked hard enough, I could make contact with Nick and ask him for some kind of sign that he’s okay.

I did; that day, the eagle arrived in my backyard.

It gave me great comfort and meaning to know Nick is okay!