Vacations with Andreyfeatured

by Shannon Jones on February 6, 2024

Growing up, I dreamed of traveling the world and seeing far-off places, but our family vacations were limited. Other than family camping trips, we had two “big” trips .The first was a road trip from California to the Grand Canyon. My little sister and I bickered in the back seat along the way, we stayed in Days Inns, and I begged my parents to stop at every Indian trading post along the way, sure that each one would have something different than the last. The second big trip was the summer I was 13, and we drove in our Pinto station wagon from Georgia to Florida, going to Disney World and an alligator farm.

I didn’t do the year abroad during college, or the gap year after college, and when I got married, my husband Brad and I joked that we were combining assets instead of debts. We scraped together money to pay for our wedding and a honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta, and then for the down payment for a 1911 home, which seemed to take all the rest of our potential vacation funds.

But as a mom, I wanted my son to experience the kind of family vacations I’d never had growing up. And so from the time we adopted Andrey at 8, I planned trips that he could remember forever.

One of the earliest was a Disney cruise to the Caribbean. Andrey had his picture taken with more than a dozen Disney characters, he ran around the ship and played video games in the kids club on giant screens, swam in turquoise water, strolled through shops in busy ports, and danced in the disco, doing back flips across the dance floor as the lights flashed and the music blared.

There was the time we went to Beaches in Turks and Caicos and Andrey learned that all-inclusive meant he could order as many frozen virgin pina coladas as he wanted. He kept ordering them, drinking part, and then swimming off, only to order another. On our next trip, to Turtle Bay Resort on Oahu, Brad and I had to put a stop to that practice after his bar bill the first day was close to $100 of non-alcoholic drinks.

We explored beaches, swam with a pod of dolphins, and went to luaus in Kauai, Maui, the Big Island, and Oahu. We went to Puerto Vallarta, where Andrey liked the beach, but didn’t like the poverty he saw in the surrounding areas as we drove out of town and into the jungle in our rented Jeep. “It makes me sad, Mom,” he said, and I wondered if it brought back memories for him of living on the streets as a child in Kazakhstan.

We went to Cancun with my folks, traveling to Tulum to see Mayan ruins, and to Chichen Itza, where Andrey ran into his YMCA camp counselor at the top of the Great Pyramid. Andrey went fishing, sailing, zip lining, and snorkeling. When we weren’t someplace tropical, we went to the mountains and Andrey went skiing. He was fearless and loved to go fast. For Christmas one year, we loaded all the presents and a little tree into the back of our SUV and drove to Lake Tahoe, where we met my folks and took a ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

I chose our destinations and itineraries strategically so that Andrey could always burn off energy running or swimming, and so that there would be no demands placed on him. Andrey struggled at school, and at home, he had frequent tantrums and melt-downs. I wanted our vacations to be a time when our family could simply escape with added stressors for Andrey.

Andrey’s Adult Years

Later as an adult, Andrey often spoke about the trips we’d taken and said he wanted to go on more family vacations. The summer he turned 24, we rented a house on the Monterey Coast, piled into Brad’s SUV and drove with Andrey and his girlfriend Jessica to meet my folks for a week. But other than his birthday, when we went to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and out to dinner, Andrey barely came out of his room. He was withdrawn and quiet, and refused to play games or go for walks. It was the last family vacation we ever took.

Without limitations caused by attention spans and behavioral issues, Brad and I began taking longer vacations and going farther, to Costa Rica, to England and France, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Italy, and Portugal, as well as back to the Caribbean, to Mexico, and Hawaii. With each trip, we brought Andrey souvenirs, often T-shirts or jewelry, which he loved dearly.

By then Andrey was in a series of settings, from rented rooms to group homes, rehab centers, residential treatment facilities, hospitals, and jails, and at the very end, on the streets. From our trips, Brad and I often found ourselves navigating crises with Andrey. In addition to the mental illness he was diagnosed with at age 8, Andrey had become addicted to meth.

On my 60th birthday trip to Italy, I watched Andrey talking to a police officer via our Ring camera. A neighbor had called the police after seeing Andrey doing karate moves in front of our house with hedge clippers in hand. There were Uber rides, money transfers, and many conversations with Andrey and case workers from abroad as we tried to help.

Being at home versus being on a trip didn’t make a difference when it came to helping Andrey. There were trips we almost canceled because he was in crisis, but even at home, we weren’t able to secure the help he needed. In the final months, the man our son became bore no resemblance to the energetic little boy who’d done backflips across a dance floor, and who always swam until his fingers pruned up. Andrey was alternately quiet or angry, and nothing seemed to bring him joy anymore.

Five days before Andrey died, I’d taken him to the store to buy him new shoes and a new coat. In line, he was talking to people who weren’t there and stabbing at the air with a feather tied to a stick. He told me his real mom was Mariah Carey and I suggested that maybe she could help. After leaving the store, I drove Andrey to get him something to eat, again begging him to go to rehab or check himself into a hospital.

“If you can get clean, we could plan another trip. Would you like that?” I asked. It had been seven years since our last trip together.

“Sure mom,” he said softly.

I’d been asking Andrey every day if he would agree to go to get help, and he kept saying no. That night, I pressed further. “I’m worried that you will end up dying before your dad and I,” I said.

And for the first time that night, Andrey actually looked at me. “Mom,” he said, “I’m already dead.”

I went home that night and wept for all that would never be. Brad and I held each other.”There isn’t a place in this world for Andrey,” I said. And by the next week, Andrey was gone, dead of a suspected overdose.

Travel Without Andrey

I remember when Andrey was young enough that we could simply take charge, when loving him seemed like it was enough to change the outcome, when my buoyancy was enough to bring him safely to shore when he got tired of swimming, and when vacations were enough to make us all forget the problems for a while and simply be a happy family.

With Andrey gone, Brad and I couldn’t face the holidays and so we did what we do – we went on a trip. Months before Andrey died, we’d booked a trip to Playa del Carmen over New Year’s. But our AirBnb canceled our reservation a few weeks after Andrey died, which was fine because we couldn’t face going to the Mayan Riviera, which Andrey had really enjoyed. So we scrapped that plan and decided to go somewhere we’d never been, Barcelona. For the first time in years, we didn’t need to worry about whether Andrey was safe while we were gone, or whether a crisis would happen back at home. But things seemed off. The first night in Barcelona, we were robbed. A kid grabbed Brad’s phone out of his hand and ran off. And we saw homeless people all throughout Barcelona, sleeping tucked against storefronts. We walked by one man near our apartment who didn’t move for more than 24 hours and I worried that he was dead, but Brad pointed out he had changed positions.

Instead of searching shops for the perfect souvenir for Andrey, I found myself searching for the perfect church to light a candle in his honor. I pray that Andrey carried those memories of pina coladas, snorkeling, ancient ruins, and ski runs at the end and that they brought him some relief. I pray that he is at peace, and that he can feel how much we love him and miss him.