“She used to sit in her living room and crow about her improved life: “I bet you never thought I’d make it to this place, after all I put you through, did you, Mom?”
And I gratefully agreed. If this was the best she could do for verbal amends, I’d take it. She flew up to Massachusetts to see her grandmother for the long Memorial Day weekend. In so many ways, she seemed to be on the mend, and making amends, to the people she loved.
That spring of 2005 I earned my M.A. in Teaching at George Mason University, and she and her brother loyally attended the ceremony. I turned around in the auditorium and saw her there with my son. I felt so proud not only of my achievement, but that Angie had turned her life around, and seemed to be happy in her recovery.
But when the program was over, and we started to file out, I saw that she had already left, and I felt a sense of foreboding, one of many that I would have in the years to come. That dark cloud began to cover the sun once more and once again, unbelievably to me, she began to tumble back into her addiction.”
