There are no words I can put on paper with this kind of loss. Only the families who have gone through all this understand, especially, if it’s not the first member to die from this horrible, worldwide disease.
I read the newspaper articles about who died from alcohol or drug abuse, read the result led to the user being killed in a car accident, or worse, took an innocent person’s life from having been at the wrong place at the wrong time. I saw it on television or maybe I heard it from a friend.
Yes, my heart went out to all of them, but I went back to my daily, safe routine in life. I felt a protective bubble around me and those events would never hit my family because we lived without alcohol or drug abuse in our home….or so I thought. Users hide their addiction so well, or after I became an outright enabler, keeping blinders on, I could have won an award for living in denial myself. Even after losing my husband, Richard, (his story in Someone Stop This Merry-Go-Round)I thought Lori’s drinking was a stage.
My thought was once she graduated from The Dighton Rehoboth High School in Rehoboth, Massachusetts, her actions would stop. They did. She married and had a son and daughter. She was always happy and a wonderful mother. All her friends flocked to our house for the fun. I knew where she was. Her sister, Debbie, was four years older and seemed to have her life together. Lori was the life of the party. She loved family and life itself.
Things happen slowly in our lives to the point of not noticing something isn’t right. Maybe we fool ourselves into thinking our lives are normal. It wasn’t until, Lori was thirty-seven years old that we all learned she never stopped her teenage drinking and was also into drugs. How did I miss it? She never came home drunk or talked back. She was always loving.
I wrote the sequel Please, God, Not Two: This Killer called Alcoholism, after losing Lori, hopefully, to help other family members to take notice as soon as you see there is a problem. When is it a problem? As soon as it causes problems. Take notice to when the arguments start and why. Is it every time they come home from parties, drinking, or being in the wrong crowd?
Don’t become your child’s friend, be a parent. We don’t hate them from the frustration of their actions causing confusion, fear, or abuse. We hate the disease because we can’t stop it. They have to do the work to desire the want to recover. If they are under eighteen, pull them out of school, even without their consent or happiness over it. They can alway go back to school, but they can’t come back once they are buried.
Read my book and learn all the mistakes I did without the knowledge I have today losing Richie and Lori. It’s too late for me, but not you!