Goodbye, Atlanta

As I type this, my son is on his way to the airport in Atlanta. He's flying back to Michigan this morning. The arrangement with his roommate didn't work out, and he's decided--after a little more than a month--that he needs to come back to Michigan and return to a sober living house.

There are lots of feelings running through me right now: Pride. Fear. Disappointment. Gratitude. Love. Hope. Confusion. Happiness. Sadness. Etc. It's like I'm in a thunderstorm of mixed emotions without an umbrella. I'm just trying to sort them all out and avoid drowning in them.

I've been dealing with so much lately, including major health issues with my father (another thunderstorm of mixed emotions). I'm just not sure I can write an intelligent blog post at this time. I may post more details about my son's return later. Or not.

One question I do have: When is this incredibly long test God is giving me going to end? And, when it's done, will I pass or fail?

Regardless of the circumstances of his return, I love my son more than life itself. I will be very happy to see him and hug him. As will his mom, his brother, his grandma, his aunts...and, of course, his cats. 

The journey continues...

The dreaded "sixth sense"

When you're the parent of an addict, over time you tend to develop a "sixth sense." You just have a feeling when things aren't right with your addict child. Even when they're not around. It's hard to explain, but if you're reading this and happen to also be the parent of an addict, I'm sure you know exactly what I'm referring to. For the rest of you, I guess the best thing to compare it to is "mother's intuition."

I've had a feeling over the past couple of days that something wasn't quite right with my son. I hadn't heard from him, either via phone or online. While that troubled me a bit, I tried really hard not to focus on it too much. I just went on living my life, knowing that I have no control over what my son does.

Well, tonight my wife and I were sitting in the family room watching TV, the phone rang, and the dreaded sixth sense of mine kicked in. "Uh-oh," I said. "This can't be good. It's gonna be [my son's name]."

Sure enough, it was our son calling. He talked to my wife for a few minutes, and everything seemed fine. Then my wife said, "Do you wanna talk to dad?"

She handed me the phone and I asked my son how he was doing. He said he had just gotten back from a meeting with his sponsor, and that they had stopped at Chick-fil-A for dinner. They had also done some reading from the "Big Book." So far, so good, I thought. But then my son volunteered some more information.

"I relapsed last Thursday," he told me. "I went out and drank a few beers and I felt like a fucking idiot after I did it. I was one day short of 90 days, which I've never done before."

While I was disappointed to hear this news, I was not completely surprised. Like I said, I could sense that something wasn't right when we hadn't heard from our son for a few days. The difference this time, though, was how I reacted. I did not get angry. I did not raise my voice. I did not chastise my son. Instead, I told him things would be OK and that he just needed to get back on the right track. And that he shouldn't be too hard on himself.

I could tell he was truly remorseful. One sure sign of this was simply the fact that he told me about his relapse. I mean, think about it: he's in Georgia and we're in Michigan. He could very easily have kept the whole thing to himself, and my wife and I never would've known. But he was honest. He also reiterated how upset he was that he didn't make it to 90 days. "But I've got five days now," he told me. I told him that was great, and that he just needs to make good choices and take it one day at a time. (You know, that "one day at a time" thing really is the key.)

After we were done talking, my son asked to talk to my wife again. She took the phone in the other room, and when she was done with the call she came back to the family room. "Did he tell you?" I asked. She said he did. We chatted briefly about the relapse, but we didn't dwell on it. We've simply learned to handle things like this better.

Life has been pretty complicated and unfair lately. My dad is still in the hospital and is not doing very well. He's been hospitalized for 12 days. He's been diagnosed with delirium and doctors think the cause of much of what he's experiencing could be alcohol withdrawal.

The mixed emotions I'm feeling about my dad's situation alone are enough to wear me down. But when you throw in some other things that have happened over the last few days involving some other family members...well, sometimes I wonder just how long of a test God has in store for me and my family.

I love my son so, so much. Unconditionally. And I told him that tonight. I'm also incredibly proud of him for having had the courage to call and be totally honest about what happened. Lastly--and this might sound strange--I feel sort of "special" because he chose to tell me first, because I'm usually the last one to know.

I truly believe my son will make that 90-day mark.  Five days down, 85 to go. One at a time. Stick with it, son. I have faith in you.

A very emotional day

My wife and I just got back from paying our respects to a young man who left us much too soon. I may cry the rest of the afternoon. A very emotional day, for sure.

And the prayer on the young man's prayer card?

Serenity

Grant me the Serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change...
Courage to change
the things I can
and Wisdom
to know the difference.

Amen. Rest easy, #94.

Another life taken much too early

My son called me at work this morning with some tragic news. A friend of his--who I happened to coach for one year when they played together on the same Babe Ruth League baseball team (which won the 2004 league championship...photo below)--passed away on Friday of a drug overdose. My son had been keeping in touch with this wonderful kid and had just talked to him on Friday. He was only 23 years old.

I could tell my son was pretty upset about the news, which he had learned about via Facebook. But I was happy and touched that he decided to call me to talk about it. And I was even happier when he told me he was getting ready to go to a meeting. I knew sharing with others would help him deal with things.

We talked for a bit and I told my son how sorry I was about his friend. I told him to be strong. Then we hung up. And I started to cry.

Another life taken much too early by drugs. Another family devastated by the horrible disease called addiction.

There but for the grace of God go I.

Feeling some change on Father's Day

So, it's Father's Day again. I was all set to write a post explaining how I feel about Father's Day and how difficult it is for me to deal with every year. But then I remembered that I've already addressed those feelings in this blog before. In 2009 and again last year. So why bother doing it again? Instead, I'm going to repost my 2009 post, and comment on it briefly. First the post:

"Today is Father's Day, which is a 'holiday' I've struggled with for a long time. I actually kind of wish I could just skip this day each year.

First off, I've never really felt connected to my own father. Growing up the son of an alcoholic father will do that to you. To this day, anything father-related is very tough for me to deal with. Especially Father's Day. I always run through the same questions in my head: Should I call my father and wish him a happy Father's Day? Should I get him a card? Should I invite him over for dinner? What exactly should I do??? I wish it wasn't like that, but it is.

I also struggle with Father's Day as it relates to my own fatherhood. Despite everything I've read and have been told about how I'm not supposed to blame myself for my son's issues, I still can't help but wonder if I could've or should've done something differently while he was growing up. Something that might've put him on a different, better path.

Yes, it's Father's Day. But I'm struggling with it. Just like I do every year."

To be honest, the feelings I have toward my own father haven't changed. We really don't have a relationship because of his years of alcoholism. But I've come to accept that. It's baggage I've carried around for more than 40 years, so I'm kind of used to it. I will admit that it's little tougher this year, though, because as I write this post my dad is in the Veterans Administration hospital in downtown Detroit. He had some chest pains earlier in the week and has been in the hospital for a couple of days for observation. I went and visited him briefly yesterday, and I'm pretty sure he'll be released today or tomorrow. My dad is 86 years old and his health is not good. He should've been dead 30 years ago from all the drinking and smoking. (Think "Mad Men" x 20...and then some.) I'm not sure how he's survived this long. It truly is a medical miracle, for better or worse.

On the bright side, my feelings about my own fatherhood have changed. Over the last couple of years, I've come a long way in healing myself. To be honest, I never thought I'd get here. But I've finally realized that I didn't cause my son's addiction, I can't control it, and I certainly can't cure it. And I think I've done everything I possibly can as a father to help him with his situation. So I'm doing better in that regard. (For the record, I owe a lot of my progress in this area to my amazing wife.)

So now that the whole Father's Day thing is out of the way, here's a brief update on some other stuff going on.

My son is still in Atlanta. Actually, it's Cumming, Georgia, a town that really needs to think about changing its name. He is living with his friend in a lake house, which is next door to his friend's parents' lake house (on Lake Lanier). The house is vacant for a few months so they're renting it from the owner until they start hunting for an apartment or house to rent.

To the best of my knowledge, my son is still clean. Today would be 85 days. His next step is to get his driver's license and buy a car. Oh, and he still has to get a job. He's been looking, but it's tough because it's about five miles into town, and he really has no transportation. (His friend is still on probation and is limited as to where he can go.)

My wife and I had an incredibly fabulous weekend last weekend. We went to see two of our favorite female singer-songwriters--Kathleen Edwards and Rickie Lee Jones--on back-to-back nights. Both shows were amazing. And I was fortunate enough to be able to surprise one of our dearest friends by arranging a meeting with Rickie Lee Jones after that show. It sort of fulfilled a lifelong dream for her, so that was pretty great. (She also got to meet Kathleen Edwards.)

Lastly, our younger son finished 10th grade this past week and started Driver's Training. He continues to grow up more every day, and--despite the fact that he's a teenager--he's a sweet, sweet kid.

That about sums things up. My wife and I continue to heal and live our lives. We realize that we--both individually and as a couple--are important. And we will continue to take care of ourselves...and each other.

Postscript: While I was typing up this post, my wife said to me, "You got an e-mail from your mom." I wanted to share that e-mail with you just to show you what a beautiful, kind-hearted, angel of a woman I have for a mother. Here's her e-mail:

"HAPPY FATHER'S DAY my dearest Son.

I don't know how to express how proud I am of you and how much I Love You. I feel you must know my feelings.

[My sons' names] are very fortunate to have you as their Father. They might not fully realize this at their young age. Be patient with them.

As they grow older, and have many experiences both good and bad, they will understand and acknowledge what you have done for them. In the meantime, Love and Cherish both of them. They both are God's/the Universe's Gift to you (and you to them) to teach many lessons of Love (and Hate, too) in the journey you are all traveling.

Happiness to all of you (and [my wife's name], too, as their Mother) on this Special Day ... Your Mom, Always !! XXXOOO"

Postscript II: My son called today to wish me a happy Father's Day. He said, "I didn't even realize it was Father's Day until someone mentioned it at a meeting I was at." I smiled. Not only because he called to say,  "Happy Father's Day"; but because it was 2:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday and he had already been to an AA meeting. Not only that, my son said he got a new sponsor last night. And he confirmed that today is 85 days clean for him. "It'll be 90 days on the 22nd." I smiled again.

My son sounded really, really good. More mature. Level headed. Like he's been maturing, both chronologically and emotionally.

I've been the proudest father in the world all day long.

Happy Father's Day.

"The next right thing"

The day after our son made the decision to move to Atlanta to live with a friend, my wife and I are still a little bit numb. And sad. In fact, the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was cry. But it didn't last long. And I didn't cry again the rest of the day.

All we can do is hope that our son's higher power guides him to where he needs to be. It's out of our hands. It always has been. It just took us a while to figure that out. Over the last several months, my wife and I have gotten pretty good at letting go. But it's still really hard.

On the bright side, we were very happy to see this as our son's Facebook status update today:

"Extremely grateful for all the friends I've made the past year. I would not be where I'm at today without all of you. I will definitely stay in touch and keep doing the next right thing."

"Keep doing the next right thing." That sounds like a pretty good game plan to me.

Off to "The ATL"

I thought today was going be a tough day because it was my first day back at work after a five-day weekend. But it ended up being tough for a totally different reason.

During the drive in to work this morning, I was pretty upbeat. I kept thinking about how good I felt and how well things seemed to be going. I was (almost) looking forward to spending the day at the office, catching up on work. But five minutes after I sat down at my desk, my phone rang. It was my son.

"I got kicked out," he said in a very sad and quiet voice. So quiet, in fact, that I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. "What did you say?" I asked him. And then I heard it, loud and clear. "I got kicked out. I have to pack my stuff and leave."

When I asked my son why he got kicked out, he said it was because he didn't get up on time again this morning. He said the house owner told him he had had enough warnings and that he had move out immediately. No ifs, ands, or buts.

I told my son I was sorry and that he'd have to figure things out on his own. I suggested he talk to the house owner about other places he could possibly go. All the while I was doing this, I felt physically ill. I really didn't have any answers for my son. This is something that hit me completely by surprise. So I ended the call by telling him, "You'll just have to figure it out."

When I hung up, I started to cry. You'd think that after all I've been through, something like this would get easier to take. In a way, it has gotten easier. But the pain and sadness can still hit me like a ton of bricks, and sometimes the tears just start flowing.

I immediately tried to call my wife, thinking that our son called me because he couldn't get in touch with her. She is always the first person he contacts--either by text or by calling--because they both have cell phones (and I don't). Unfortunately, I couldn't reach my wife. I tried calling about a dozen times, but all I got was her voicemail.

When I finally did get ahold of my wife--who had been out walking with a friend...without her cell phone--I asked her, "What do we do now?" As I suspected, she had no idea what I was talking about. When I told her, I could tell how surprised and disappointed she was. We talked briefly, then she said she was getting a call from our son. So I hung up. Meanwhile, I was still crying and decided there was no way I could stay at the office for the day. I packed up my stuff and headed back home.

Strangely, about a half-hour after completing the 40-mile drive to work, I found myself making the 40-mile drive home from work. Only this time I wasn't feeling so good about things and had tears running down my cheeks. When I got home, my wife told me our son had texted her and asked if we could help him out by coming to get his stuff. I know a lot of people probably think we should have said no, but we agreed to do it. Our son has no car, and he had a ton of stuff at the sober living house. It was all sitting in the driveway of the house, and there was no way he could have gone anywhere with it.

My wife and I went to the house, our son loaded his stuff in the back of our minivan, and he got in. We then drove home in total silence. I think everyone was at a loss for words, yet at the same time knew exactly what everyone else was thinking.

When we got home, we talked. Our son admitted to having screwed up. He sounded genuinely remorseful, too. He knows he was in a good place and that his behavior ruined that for him. My wife and I expressed our disappointment and told our son that we didn't really know what to do next. As it turns out, though, our son had a plan.

While he was in sober living in Palm Springs, our son had a roommate he got along really well with. The two of them became good friends. When this roommate went back home to Atlanta, he told our son that he could come live with him anytime. So that's what our son's plan was: to go to Atlanta and live with his former sober living roommate.

During our conversation, our son's phone rang. It was his friend telling him that he had bought him a plane ticket to Atlanta on a flight that leaves Detroit at 5:12pm today. My wife and I were kind of in shock over this. Our son was going from sober living in Detroit, to out on the streets, to flying to Atlanta all in a matter of a hours? That seemed crazy. But you know what? We decided we had to let him go, both literally and figuratively.

Our son is 22 years old and, despite his addiction and depression, we can't tell him what he can or cannot do. We can make suggestions, but the decisions are ultimately his. To tell him he couldn't go to Atlanta would've been a giant step backwards for us. It would've been us trying to control our son again, and we've worked so hard to move away from that.

So we helped him pack his stuff into one big duffel bag and a carry-on bag. And we called his grandma (my mom) to tell her to come say goodbye. And we got our other son out of school 30 minutes early so he could say goodbye, too. We all hugged and cried a little, and there were plenty of "I love yous." Then my wife drove our son to the airport. As I type this post, he is off to "The ATL."

It's still hard for me to comprehend that this all went down so quickly. I wish my son nothing but success as he starts this new phase of his life. It will definitely be a challenge for him. He'll be on his own. Living with someone else, yes; but without the structure of a sober living environment. He'll need to find his own path and, hopefully, work the program because he wants to; not because he has to.

His plane just took off and I miss him already.

I love you, son.

Postscript: For the record, my wife talked to the owner of the sober living house and our son was indeed kicked out for repeatedly not getting up on time. It was not because he used. In fact, as of today our son is 67 days clean. He also looks great and seems to be as clearheaded as he's been in years. So those are the positives we're taking away from all of this.

"Grace is doing my best, and letting go of the outcome."
    --http://www.onecraftymother.com/2011/04/grace-doesnt-wear-red-cape.html