Sober Son.
So here, a week or so past Mother’s Day, I’m going to reflect on my mother. Her name is Nancy.
With much love, four sons, a husband of 54 years, and a pocketful of secrets that tumbled out slowly over the last few years, my mother Nancy is.
I am her sober son. A young man of 41, clean and sober now many years; a son she dreamt I might be one day living free of drug & alcohol dependency in real life.
A month ago a call came from my nephew Ryan, telling me of mom’s massive stroke. A stroke while in the flower garden. A helicopter ride to Portland. A procedure followed by an operation followed by another major surgery followed by the pause to wait and watch and come together as a family.
And we have. Come together to celebrate the love and togetherness we have chosen today in spite of our differences.
I am so grateful that I am the son who stopped and stayed stopped. Who surrendered when I was unable to think clearly, and get help. The son who recovered.
Brad