Community Leader Keeps Son’s Memory Alive
Part One
By Luke Schmaltz, VOICES Newsletter Editor
Janice Johnson is the founder of MADMOMS aka Mothers Against Drugs. She has been in recovery for 22 years, during which time she has endured the loss of her brother in 2006, her sister in 2009, her mother in 2010, her father in 2011, her niece in 2022 and most recently, her son Ja’Maar, in 2023.
Johnson’s resilience in the face of constant tragedy is a testament to her will to live a fulfilling life regardless of her circumstances. Her story is also an endorsement of the idea that helping others is one of the best ways to process and harness grief.
Johnson offers insight into grieving while in recovery, channeling grief into productive activities, and uplifting others amid one’s own struggles.
On September 11, 2023, Johnson’s son, Ja’Maar was pronounced deceased by Tufts Medical Center staff. He was 37 years old and had been struggling with substance use and living from house to house. Three days prior, Ja’Maar was struck by a moving vehicle – the wounds from which proved to be fatal. Upon her son’s death, Johnson opted to have Ja’Maar’s heart donated to a waiting transplant recipient.
A Call in the Night
Johnson recalls a premonition about her son she had in the early hours on the day of the accident. “At 2:00 a.m.,” she begins, “I woke up thinking Ja’Maar was at the house. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I went for my morning walk instead. I was in the park across the street, and I kept thinking he was somewhere nearby.”
“While I was out, I got a phone call. I listened to the message, and it was someone from the hospital. I called back and they explained that Ja’Maar was in a car accident, he was in critical condition, and I needed to get over there immediately. When I saw him, I knew he was gone. I could tell there was no life in him.”
“They explained to me that he was in the street when he got hit by an SUV. I remembered that I had jumped out of bed at 2:00 a.m. and the nurse told me that Ja’Maar had arrived right around that same time.”
The Long Goodbye
“I called my family – Ja’Maar’s sisters – and we had a meeting with the doctor. He told us that they had done everything they could do and that Ja’Maar was not going to wake up. That was on September 8, and it was a very surreal experience. I thought it was important to document everything. It is important to take photos and videos.”
“We took over the quiet room, which was not very quiet,” Johnson recalls. “I wasn’t in denial about the fact that he was gone, especially after they took him off the pain meds and he didn’t respond even though he had multiple broken bones. We were in the hospital with him for seven days.”
“I did at least go home every night because I needed to reenergize to deal with everything. I took pictures and videos of everyone in the family talking to him and saying goodbye to him. On September 10th they had to do one final test to measure brain activity to assess his prognosis. At that point, life support was the only thing keeping his vital functions operating, but he was getting cold, and his condition was too unstable to carry out the last test.”
“On September 11, the nurse explained that Ja’Maar had been declared deceased at 6:28 p.m. We expected there to be more tests and a conversation with us before he was taken off life support. It was horrible.”
Pain to Purpose
“One of his brothers said, ‘His heart is so strong,’ and that is when I decided to donate his heart – in order to keep him alive,” Johnson says. “I needed to do that to save a life. Everything I do now is to keep my son’s memory and legacy alive. I needed to donate his heart to keep it beating.”
Once we made the decision to donate his heart, the staff at Tufts Medical Center had a beautiful Honor Walk for us, which is an event for the family and friends of an organ donor. The hospital staff lines the walls from the donor’s room to the transplant operating room. It seemed like every doctor in the hospital was there, lining the hallway walls. Just before the procedure, the nurse called in a music therapist who recorded Ja’Maar’s heartbeat. She printed out his heartbeat line for us.”
“Ja’Maar harmed a lot of people in the community due to his condition. Because of all the harm he had done, I needed him to get right with God by saving someone else’s life. I know he knew I was doing that, which was a confirmation of our spiritual connection. Then, finally, we all got to go home. It was bittersweet.”
Continuing Bonds
Everything that has happened in the past two years has been part of my ongoing spiritual connection with my son,” Johnson says. “There are too many alignments and synchronicities to count.”
“I played the recording of Ja’Maar’s heartbeat at his service. Later, I produced a song titled 5ive Heartbeats. I had Ja’Maar’s heartbeat put into the mix along with some of his raps and I sang on the song as well. It was an emotional process, but I felt like my son and I were doing it together. I was keeping his memory and legacy alive by recording that song.”
“The day I finished it, I walked out of the studio and there was a feather on the ground. One of Ja’Maar’s nicknames was Fly Boy 5ive (Five), because he loved anything that flies whether it be rockets, jets, or birds. I had never in my life seen a cardinal until Ja’Maar passed away. Then I started seeing them everywhere.”
“I come from a family that loves pictures and loves to document every occasion. I have stacks of photo albums from my mom. That’s why I produced that song – to leave it behind for someone else to have and enjoy. Documenting and storytelling have profoundly helped me with my grief. There are so many creative ways of bringing together memories of someone who is gone for everyone to enjoy.”
Creative Grieving
“It is amazing what creativity can do for someone who is grieving,” Johnson continues. “I am starting a songwriter’s group for survivors. The workshops will be about making music about a deceased loved one, even if that person was not musically inclined. My son’s favorite color is red, and he talks about it in his music, and he has a signature laugh as well.”
“I put those reflections into Ja’Maar’s song, and I’ll use that as an example for others on how to commemorate someone through music. You can start with their favorite phrase, something they may have said that was powerful, your own personal story with that person, or even a recording of them talking. By using these sorts of elements in creative ways, we can honor them with something lasting.”
“Before I do anything, I always plug into my son. I put on my headphones and play one of his songs. I am confident that by being attuned in this way, I can help other people make some type of recording where families can plug in and hear their loved one within a tune and a melody. This songwriting exploration is one of the services offered by MADMOMS,”
Forgiveness and Support
“I’ve been in recovery for 22 years,” Johnson explains. “I raised my children while I was using. Now that Ja’Maar is gone, I’ve had to work through a lot of guilt which is a process. Other survivors whom I work with – whose children have overdosed or died from fentanyl – have helped me with this piece. I struggle with the idea that maybe if I wasn’t using while raising Ja’Maar, things would have turned out differently.”
“I need to hold myself accountable for the role I played in my children's upbringing and set an example for others to do the same. I wasn’t a perfect mother, but I can’t say my kids would have been perfect if I wasn’t struggling with substance use. There are risks and consequences when you raise your children while you are on drugs. I haven’t completely forgiven myself yet, but I have made amends with Ja’Maar and my other children. It’s one day at a time.”
“If you have lost a child to substance use, blaming yourself is not the answer. I have to constantly remember that if I don’t move away from that idea – if I stay stuck there – I will struggle to move forward and help others in my journey.”
“Support is so very important to coping with loss,” Johnson concludes. “After all I have learned over the years, I don’t think anyone gets through loss – no matter what it is – without support.”
Part Two will explore Janice Johnson’s proactive outreach, her ambassadorship between community and local government, her numerous creative pursuits, and the therapeutic power of strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Please stay tuned to the October issue of VOICES for the rest of the story…