Disappointment is a cancer that slowly eats away at a parent’s strength. Bitterness seeps in to foul my memories of a child full of athletic and good-natured ability, who, as a man, is seeking death through a bottle.
But that’s the jaded stepparent talking. In the months he has spent “recuperating” under our roof, we were hoping serious talks, promises, work, and voluntary therapy would bring back the fun and caring son. But that only enabled him to sink farther with each setback.
I spent part of last night reinforcing gates and walls. I went looking for contraband around the house, and raising my emotional walls. Then I told him he was causing his mother to suffer and he would not be welcome anymore.
His brother found him today unconscious.
Gratefully, we are spared planning a funeral, and may yet see a repentance. However, I am still collecting bricks and mortar.