November

Three years ago this week I flew to Redmond, OR to check out Mount Bachelor Academy. November 17th I boarded the plane in Madison to make the first of what would become many trips across the country. The situation at home was desperate. Losing Aaron was, in my mind, a matter of time.

Detach! Detach! Cathy would shout to me when my confrontations with Aaron would escalate. A week before November 17th, I did more than detach--I gave up. I couldn't even see my son in Aaron's skin. What I didn't know then was the destructive capability of today's potent marijuana. As one writer said to me--"This is not your grandma's pot."

Thanksgiving was a week away and our home was in turmoil in November 2003. I had given up...but only for a few days. Cathy was holding on. She was willing to try anything to save her son. Patrick's love of his brother was never in doubt. "I just want my brother to not hate me!", Patrick cried one night. Once we had a plan, I was eager to get on with the mission---Dad's always want to fix things and I was a "fixer" -- of other people, not so much of myself. But, that's another story for another time.

Three years ago we had our last Thanksgiving together as a family of four. Aaron didn't know what was in store for him. He had no idea that he was just weeks away from leaving home. He was the only one at the table that day who didn't know what was coming down. None of us knew what to expect.

Cathy, Patrick, and I know there are families who are living the experience we encountered in 2003. Giving thanks on a day when your child or sibling is under the intense influence of addiction is a challenge. The celebration goes on magnifies your inability to have a healthy family experience. Humiliation, yes. Humility, no.

This year we are thankful for Aaron's recovery and his healthy 17 months. We expected more. We want another day. We accept what we had. We miss Aaron.

Three years ago I flew to Redmond, OR to start the journey to save Aaron.