Thirteen years ago when Jacob was home from Florida for a visit, our local treatment center invited him to address the patients. I was invited to join him.

Today, this center, Pathways, offers a Family Program for those affected by a loved one’s addiction. It’s a Saturday session to learn more about disease and what to do to take care of the family. Typically, an Al-Anon member attends also.

.My husband and I often share our story there. We offer understanding and hope, and we encourage them to attend Al-Anon or another support group.

But the more remarkable session is the one that follows.

We speak to their loved ones, the inpatients, many suffering from repeated relapses.

It’s an awkward moment.

What can I possibly say to help these men and women, some seemingly “hard core,” that will help them or their families?

I am surprised they listen.  They keep their eyes on me as I share all the pain and heartache their disease once had on me – before I came to Al-Anon, and before Jacob and I both found  recovery.

On this day, the questions they ask are surprisingly profound.   Some I’d never been asked:

• Knowing what you do now, what would you have done differently?

Shame, denial and fear kept me from acting to help myself – and thereby my son – for too long.  But they say that you come to Al-Anon when you are ready.

•  What would you do differently today?

Seek professional help earlier – good professional help – sooner.

• How did Al Anon affect your relationship with your son?

It has improved it.  It’s given us a common language, and it took the focus off him and put it on me.

• What happens if your wife has gone to Al Anon once or twice and didn’t like it?

I’d tell her to try another meeting.  Al-Anon suggests you try 6 or 7 meetings until you find one that fits.  Or try another support group.  Find a community you like.

And then our hour is over.

Have I helped these men and women?  Or helped their loved ones?

I’ll never know.

But that won’t keep me from trying again.  And again.

.