The Dark at the Start of the Tunnel

In 6 hours, I will be able to give my son the first proper hug I have given him in more than 2 years. It feels like an eternity has passed and it also feels like I merely blinked my eyes. I have learned what happens when you love a heroin addict who is sentenced to prison. Time is suspended. You know in your heart that there is no neutral ground in prison. Every thought, behavior, or action Sam has taken and been exposed to in these past two years, as well as every person he has engaged with, has either fed into a future of sobriety and contribution to society or a life back in prison or worse. The ground is starting to spin beneath my feet again. I am just along for the ride.

Sam has been at the half-way house for over a week now. He has actually gotten to take two separate micro-trips to Walmart. I literally could have been shopping at that particular store, rounded a corner, and been face to face with my son.

Ironically, I seriously dislike Walmart. I have a short history of issues with them, culminating in the discovery of my first gray hair in one of their bathrooms 15 years ago. The Walmart that Sam is allowed to venture to is on Colfax Avenue which is generally known for these three things: It's one of the longest continuous streets in America, it's the location of the very popular "Colfax Marathon," and it is also a great place to acquire and sell drugs. In fact, it was always the first road we took to look for Sam whenever he was missing.

Today is monumental in our journey. I feel like I need this short visit more than anything I have ever needed in my life. I need to connect with Sam before he spends more time in civilization. I need to give him a hug and tell him the things he needs to hear to get through the unbearable pain of losing someone he loved so dearly while he is navigating his path back into society at the same time. Two incredibly difficult tasks on their own, let alone combined and for someone who has relied on heroin to deal with the difficult things in life.

The more freedom he receives, the more real his loss will likely become to him. Routine and order were a distraction. He started smoking again, that is another distraction. Someone asked me "Isn't smoking just as bad as heroin?" I said "Perhaps, but he will live much longer as a smoker than a heroin addict so I will gladly support his habit."

Sam is more grown up and mature than he has ever been. God, the Universe, or whatever Higher Power he holds onto has prepared him for this exciting and yet very difficult time. Freedom looms and yet it is nothing like he expected. The light got dimmer for him after he heard the news of his friend. He is sad and foggy. Still, he has the capacity to walk through this fire if he chooses to. I need him to choose to.

This is what people who love heroin addicts do when their person ends up in prison. We look for signs of growth and reasons to believe that things have changed. We try to move forward while their life seemingly stops, except we know it actually hasn't. We know his experience in prison ultimately affected him positively or negatively, but we won't truly know which for now.

We live unsettled. Some days we are distracted by life and things feel okay. Some days we have melt-downs when the unknown becomes too much. We ALL live in the unknown every single day but for some reason, the giant pull of heroin is like an overpowering magnet that refuses to let go. People return after years of sobriety, others walk away. In order to escape, the addict needs to take off the armor that pulls them in, such as ego, complacency, isolation, and overconfidence. They need to become humble and willing to do whatever it takes. I hope for humility for Sam.

Where there is Life, there is Hope.

#nomoreshame