My mother chose alcohol over me.
To be fair, I was not the only one. She began drinking early on in her life.
My mother was given chance after chance after chance to make the changes she needed to make. Countless AA meetings, substance abuse programs, addiction clinics, therapy sessions, counseling groups. Countless hundreds and thousands of dollars spent to make her well, to help her heal, to get her back.
Every time it was the same. She was happy and healthy and herself again. And then one day she’d start drinking again. Always in secret. Bottles buried in boxes, stashed under beds, tucked into bathroom cupboards, concealed in automobiles.
She hid her addiction well. No one would suspect anything. Until, invariably, the abuse once again became painfully and unforgivably obvious.
Over the years she alienated every friend she ever made, drove away every family member she ever had, lost every job she ever worked. She wound up alone and distraught, seemingly incapable of understanding the true cause of her pain.
I put up with this cycle for decades. I answered her phone calls never knowing which “Mom” I would be talking to. Cheerful? Depressed? Optimistic? Angry? No two conversations were ever the same. I dealt with her drama, her woes, her failures for years because…because she was my Mom.
A year ago, I stopped answering her calls. She had lied, let me down, jerked me around, crossed the line one too many times. I figured her own son stopped talking to her, maybe, just maybe, she might finally wake up to reality.
My Mom died yesterday.
As long as I can remember, she seemed intent on drinking herself to death. On Thursday, she finally succeeded. She had cirrhosis of the liver – the irreparable kind. She told no one, of course. Like always, no one knew until it was too late.
I’ve been awaiting this moment for years. But I honestly didn’t think it would hurt this bad. For all her flaws…she was my Mom.
The last time she called was on the 4th of July. I didn’t answer. And that will haunt me for a very long time.
The time you have with loved ones is precious. Treasure it. Please. Because nothing lasts forever.
Goodbye, Mom. I hope you found what you were looking for.
