My son is coming back from Montana for the holiday and will have the dinner at his house – just before they pack up and leave their house. It breaks my heart to see what they are doing. You may have noticed that my son is my pride and joy. I can’t help it. He is such a good man. Quiet, strong, manly. An honorable soldier through the Iraq war. And although his life is sort of falling apart due to the injuries sustained in that war, he never complains. He treats it all like a big adventure. Have you any idea how hard it is for a veteran who has spent 20 years of his young life in the military to find a job outside of the military? His jobs are all in other places, all around the world, in war zones. He found a good job in the US, but it is certainly not here in the same city as his mother, or the rest of his family. They will now be hundreds of miles farther from his wife’s family. But they will be off on an adventure. I remember going off on an adventure when he was an infant – and I have never once regretted it. Thank God I don’t live in Chicago in close proximity to my ex-husband’s relatives.
Yesterday morning my daughter came up the stairs with the phone glued to her head and tears streaming down her face. Unfortunately, this is not unusual. When she got off the phone, I asked her what was wrong. She said “Bill is strung out on meth.” Oh dear Lord. Oh my God. Bill’s her friend. Bill has been a good friend. He was recently here painting my guest bedroom, because she asked him to. He recently celebrated the hugest victory of his sobriety when he was able to purchase his dream Harley Davidson. He did a little dance he was so happy. This huge awkward man, doing crazy little steps, with a song he made up about being clean and how good it was. Within a few weeks, he was hit by a drunk driver while driving his HD, and was severely injured. He is now out of the hospital and has convinced himself that meth is the only way of alleviating his pain. My daughter is devastated.
In the meantime, he is living in the home of another friend. A friend with small children. My daughter has told the friend she MUST get Bill out of the house. A meth addict cannot be trusted, no matter how much you may have trusted the person when he was clean. But the other friend won’t get him out of his house with his small children.
Another friend called in a panic, her b.f. was driving her to school at 7:30 a.m., and was drunk out of his mind. She had the drunk guy stop the car so she could call my daughter for help. Of course, my daughter was out of here like lightening. Picking up her friend (and her drunk b.f.) along the road. Lecturing the drunk. Realizing how pointless that is.
My daughter is brilliant. She is going to an alanon meeting with two of her friends this week.
I didn’t know if you could truly have a middle child if you have a singleton and a set of twins. But I do have a classic middle child. Responsible, successful, quiet, pleasant. She has had health problems (serious ones), I think they are due to always being the voice of reason in a somewhat tumultuous family. Thank God she works in my building and I get to see her nearly every day. We often take a lunch break together, though we seldom eat out! We go shopping or run errands, it is fun. When I worked downtown, my heart would break that this was no longer a part of my life.
And now it sounds like I need an alanon meeting. I am leary of writing about other people. It is not my right. And when I do, I worry about boundaries. I worry about my children as they all move into their mid-thirties and beyond. Real life settles in. Some things that may have seemed transitory now are realized to be perhaps permanent.
And I realize how much older I am. It is life. And God is good.