When addiction first crept into our household 11 years ago, I started keeping a journal. Retreating to clean white paper became my refuge. The blank pages stared back, non-judgmental and welcoming. On their unvarnished surface I poured out my anguish, fear, confusion and shame. It was the only place – until many years later – …
Fifteen years. That’s how long my husband and I have been attending Al-Anon meetings, most of them in the same kindergarten room at a nearby church. Fifteen years of sitting beside tiny desks in a circle embracing other mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, and friends who care about them. We all come for the …
This time it’s not the expected passing of a close friend from cancer that stirs thoughts of death. Nor is it the sudden loss of a beloved physician from a heart attack. It’s the shocking, gut-wrenching news that another young man has died from addiction. He is the tenth “child” – because aren’t they all …