“Detach with love.”

The first time I heard that phrase I was dumbstruck.
A former English major, I had to parse the words to make sense of it.

“Detach?”  You mean separate myself from my son? How does a mother detach from her children? And how do you do it “with love?” What does that even mean?

It happened at one of my earliest Al Anon meetings.
I can’t recall now who said it.

Maybe it was the mother of an adult daughter who was killing herself with alcohol and still living in her mother’s home.

Or maybe the mom was admonished by an older gentleman who’d had his own run with alcohol and was now seeking help because of a grandson.

Regardless, the reference was clear. It was a command meant for anyone enabling a loved one with addiction.

The phrase followed me home. It haunted me for days. It popped up at other meetings, too. And in my most challenging moments with Jacob, I let it whisper to me to pause, stop, let him go, let him find his way, because what I was doing clearly wasn’t working.

Even today, 11 years into his sobriety and 12 into my Al-Anon attendance, I say it often to myself. Active addiction is no longer part of my life and the phrase still has meaning.

Perhaps other parents can, but I find it so hard to part from my children when we’ve been together, no matter how long the visit. Both are adults and have their own lives. Both are healthy, productive, and caring members of their worlds, but I still feel an ache when I leave them.

Then I remember:  Lisa, detach with love.
It’s what parents are meant to do, even if addiction has never affected their lives.

Because “detaching” is “love.”

Even if it makes you dumbstruck.