The post was from a girl named Kelsey who recently lost her father to drug addiction; heroin overdose to be specific. As I read I found myself in an empathetic and understanding state of melancholy. Here was someone that has gone through the ups and downs of what addiction can do to a family, and she found herself on the oh too sad end it very well takes sometimes; losing someone who means the world to you.
Her second paragraph is what truly struck at my core, "I share this with you, not because I am in search of pity, on the contrary, it's because I yearn for the moment when those that suffer from, and have fallen victim to the horrific disease that is addiction will one day be given the memorial that their souls truly deserve."
What marveled me was that the second post I ever made here had a similar line and similar theme. This is where the coincidence comes into play. I spent this past Sunday evening with a friend and we began sharing our life stories. She told a tale of her family's history and how she ended up in Clarion, and I shared mine. Now some of you may know about my family's history, yet, from what I'm gathering thanks to the words of my friend, most of you may not; nor would you even suspect it. But from a very young age I grew up in a household where addiction tore apart the very bricks of my family's foundation.
My father, the man who was everything to me, changed from being the one who laughed, smiled, and hugged, into the man who came home late whom I barely saw. My mother, the strong, passionate, and artistic caregiver, lost all the colors to her once vivid palette and became a shell of the person I once knew. My sister, my brother, myself, we lost our parents, not in the physical sense, but in a way unique to itself. I think the only way I could describe it would be by calling it a secular state of purgatory; caught between life and death, never knowing what the day would bring next.
Now I stand here today as a man who went from being a troubled teen that could care less about school to being merely a semester and a half away from graduating with an MBA. I stand here today having a sister who through it all grew and become a wonderfully successful and hard working human being and mother of 2 absolutely brilliant nephews, 2 amazingly beautiful daughters, and wife to a husband I'm lucky to call my brother-in-law. I stand here with my brother, Joseph, who had his own troubled paths, but now finds himself further away from taking the wrong steps in life.
Even with all of this though, all of these wonderful amazing things, there are two things I'm most proud about in my life. The fact that I can say my father has been clean for almost 2 years now and my mother for over 7.
Here's the thing, as I'm writing this, I find myself wanting to echo again the words of Kelsey, that I'm not writing this for some sense of pity or attention. And I find it particularly interesting that it is a common concern of those who have grown up where addiction was an unwanted family addition.
I'm writing this because of what I value. Because I believe the most important aspect to existence itself are the relationships we have with each other, the networks we exist in. I believe that every single one of us leaves an impression upon each other, a memory, forever guaranteeing eternal legacy. Through our interactions, we have the capability to enrich each others lives.
Now I have no idea what tomorrow may bring for my parents, but I do know qualities I'm sure many friends and family members enjoy about me come from my mother and father, and no matter what happens, the memories I will always have of them are the ones that bring a smile to my face.
Still, it kills me whenever I see a man or woman walking into the local clinic with a child holding his or her hand. It kills me because I've seen how awful addiction can be, and I know too well what it can do to a family. But I've also seen the miracles that life can bring. I've seen what can happen just by keeping your head up, fighting what may seem like incredibly arduous up-hill battles, having the faith and confidence in yourself, and being able to surround yourself with ones who truly love you.
Because of all this, I find it hard to explain the happiness I get from being able to go home on a weekend and do something as silly as read to my nephew. Now I'm sure any Uncle would feel the same way, but for me, everything has a little bit of a different weight behind it, because at one point in my life I never would have imagined I'd be 24 years old, laying in a Super Mario themed bed, reading The Time Machine to a 7 year old who shared my blood. I never imagined I'd be driving home from the Lego Movie sharing with my nephew and niece the wonderful joys of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. I never thought any of the things that have occurred in my life would have ever happened. But they did, and I don't see why they can't happen for other people as well, people who have their own battles, because in the end, mine and my family's story, objectively, are no different from any other; there were ups and downs, but everything turned out alright.
I wanted to write this for Kelsey though, because I know what she's gone through to a degree. And I know that sometimes people have their demons, but that doesn't mean they're not people; wonderful, curious, people - grandfathers, fathers and sons, mothers, daughters, and loved ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment