I think a lot of people who knew me from middle school on probably aren't aware of or never thought about the fact that the man they know as my dad is actually my step-dad. He and my mom married when I was 6. I call him my dad, he's in my phone as "Dad", and my kids call him Grandpa. For all intents and purposes, he is my dad.
The reality is that, obviously, he is not biologically my father. That is a man named David. He and my mother married when they were 16 and 19 and had me when they were 17 and 20. So, babies. David, unfortunately, developed a drug habit. My mother finally had enough and, as a 20 year old, found herself divorced and raising a child on her own.
He was in and out of my life from that point on. Sometimes, he was actively using. Sometimes, he was in jail. Sometimes, he was clean and living under stolen identities. And sometimes, he was clean and doing well as himself. Most often, it was one of the first three things though. My mother never restricted me from seeing him. My beloved great-grandmother who I frequently talk about was his grandmother and he always had a home with her if he so desired. My mother trusted her with me completely and he had ample opportunity to nurture a relationship. I know that is something people assume, that my mother prevented a relationship, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
He popped in and out of my life from the time I was a toddler until I was 19. Once I had kids, I went low contact.
In early 2006, right after the birth of my second son, he called me for "help". If you're the child of an addict, you already know that help frequently translates to "money" and this case was no different. He and I had a huge blow up where he blamed everything on everyone else and I was done. I went no contact.
There's a lot left out of this and one day I will talk about what it's like to be the child of an addict and how that has impacted my whole life for my whole life, but that's enough to fill a book.
One thing to know is that children of addicts struggle with, "Why was I not enough?" We should have been enough for them to get clean. To stay clean. To stay out of jail. To be a present parent. To maintain a relationship. We are frequently parentified and this is a direct result that.
On October 14, 2021, he was placed on life support and not expected to survive. Ironically, it wasn't drug related, although I'm sure his decades of drug abuse didn't help. He passed away the next day.
Some days, I struggle with it. There was no closure. He died several states away. His wife didn't make an effort to contact me. I didn't know how to contact her, not that I truly believe she would have spoken to me.
In my heart, I know that his demons couldn't be fought by me. I went limited to no contact with him because I knew I couldn't continue to sacrifice my peace. I had to love him from afar because it was too much to love him up close. Too hard, too disappointing, too one sided. Too hard to watch him deteriorate. Too stressful to have him blame everything on everyone else. My mental health was important. My kids' safety was even more important. And to everyone who will "coulda, woulda, shoulda" from the sidelines just know that the cost was too high.
He was stunningly brilliant. Exceedingly talented. There was nothing he couldn't teach himself to do. He taught himself to play multiple musical instruments by ear. He could literally hear a song, walk over to the piano and play it. He could take anything apart and put it back together and was a talented electrician. He could have been anything. And yet, the drugs had a chokehold on him.
He was an absentee parent. All I ever wanted was for him to acknowledge that he was responsible for that instead of blaming others. The adult in me knows that I probably would never have gotten that. The little kid buried deep inside me held out hope. The irony is that his mother was also an absent parent. But he perpetuated the cycle.
That same little kid that lives in me always hoped for a reconciliation, but that eluded us. What might have been if we'd had more time?
I am truly at peace with my decisions and I don't want this to read like I'm not. Sometimes, it just hits me out of nowhere that half of me is no longer here. And despite everything, I did love him. I gave our situation over to Jesus many years ago because that was the only way to survive it. But I will always wonder what could have been if addiction hadn't been a part of our story.
He loved Jesus and I can only pray that he did indeed find salvation. I desperately hope he has finally found peace from the demons that plagued him. I hope that we have another opportunity in heaven for all the things we couldn't be on earth.
Addicts aren't bad people. They make bad decisions. They do bad things. Chasing that high is more important than anything else, even the people who love you most. And most of them want to do better, but the pull is too much. I don't want anyone to think I'm saying he was a bad person who wasn't worthy of love. He was so worthy and was surrounded by people who would have done anything for him.
If you have an addict in your life, just know that you can love them and support them but you can't make them clean. That has to be their decision and they have to work at it every single day. You don't have to struggle with wondering why you aren't enough. You can't be enough in the wrong situation and it's not your responsibility to be.
I wish things had been different for us. And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
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