Monday, December 12, 2011

I knew the look in her eyes, it was fear she couldn't disguise

A few minutes before time for a meeting to start I saw a tiny slip of a woman put her hands above her eyes to peer into the meeting hall. I smiled and motioned for her to come in. She was my mother, she was my friend's mother she was every addicts mother who had came to the end of their rope and just went out searching. Searching for help, searching for a hand, searching for a voice that would tell her that there was still a possibility that her fears wouldn't be confirmed. The fear her only child would die from addiction is what brought her to 3713 today. The only information I had for her was that a Naranon meeting would take place at 6:30 at the hall she was at and that there were people who knew where she stood. There she would find understanding and a way to deal with loving an addict whether or not he ever gets clean or if he chases the rock to a brutal senseless end. I gave her the website and assured her there were thousands of parents out their with a recovery plan of their own and that if her son ever wanted to come to another meeting she could call me and I would meet him there. This is real fucking life, unfolding under my very nose and I have spent most of the day consumed in my own  psychodrama starring myself. If I prayed I would pray for her, instead I am redirecting positive energy her way. What a bold, brave woman. No man or woman opens the door to recovery without facing down a million fears.  My human bowl is fuller this moment for my interaction with her. Heartbreak in her voice, fear in her eyes and hope, (though she did not see it) that there was something inside the sad gray walls of this building that could save her son. Color me touched.

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