And there it sits, in the middle of the room. It has occupied that space for nearly 17 years. It’s huge. It’s been indestructible. It has even moved as my parents have changed residences. It’s not the type you admire from afar for its large, strong stature. It’s the type we don’t talk about because it’s just better that way. It’s the type you just want out. It leaves me wondering and keeps me questioning.
Where will he lie his head tonight?
Will he be warm and safe from the conditions?
Is that him, walking down the street, with no place to go?
Will he ever escape the hold?
Will I ever enjoy his sense of humor again?
Will we be blessed with the person we know is inside?
Will my children always be robbed of a kind, caring uncle?
When will I stop lying to my kids about his whereabouts?
Will he ever meet his newest niece and any more to come?
Will we ever celebrate his accomplishments in life?
Will he share his life with a beautiful bride and children?
Will he be a contributor to society in some way?
Will my mom live to see him happy and healthy?
Will my dad ever rid of the anger?
Though attempts have been made, it has never left. There it sits, in the middle of the room. It occupies space, time, money, sadness, frustration, aggravation, fear, and anger. It sucks energy and life from you, and slaps you right in the face at the slightest hint of well-being. It’s the big elephant in the room. It’s addiction.