I was working on another Sunday Nothings topic (I'll unleash that next week) but got hung up on this thought: What if drugs had never touched our family? What if I didn't have to explain addiction to my nieces and nephews? What if.... What if....
What if drugs were different? What if we didn't throw every addict in jail? What if we didn't create the opposite, where addicts don't go to jail when they're busted? What would happen if we didn't put addicts in jail but put them in some sort of rehab program? And what happens if that doesn't work?
Now, there's nothing wrong with smoking a doobie or taking a bong hit every now and then. Most reasonable people agree with that.
But there is something wrong with someone who literally embalms themselves with heroin or meth every day.
Jesus, you put the needle in your vein and you're never the same again, are you?
What do we do with those people? How do we love them after all the hell they've created? How do we muster empathy for these addicts when they seem to spend all of their time figuring out ways to hurt us?
Cut us down to our soul. Remind us of what could have been.
I and those I care about most live in this space.
She lives in that space.
And there is no bridge that can be built that brings us together. There is nothing.
There is just a black hole where my whole family used to be.
We had each others backs. We never let anyone hurt. We strutted around like peacocks, with our chests held high and our feathers flared so no one was confused.
And this, this seemed simple. This seemed normal. I love you, you love me, and we love each other and no one can touch that.
I've done some painful things in my life. But I've never tried to explain that which I don't understand.
The kids look to me for answers.
They don't realize that I have more questions than they ever will.