The People Who Love Us
"Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end." - Author Unknown
Can you hear it? Their voice that is. The sound of fear and apprehension as they try and form the words that they are afraid to speak. Did you take the money out of my account? Is the mortgage paid? Where is your cheque? Do we have enough money for groceries? Questions they ask out of fear and answers that they really don't want to hear. But they ask us and we awkwardly search for the appropriate lie. As we relate another half-hearted story their stomach churns and a sickly feeling overcomes them. Why? How? Will this ever end? Can I take anymore? What are we going to do for Christmas?
I can still hear my wife's voice. In a way it haunts me. I can still see her face. Dispair, fear, loss of hope, confusion, anger, but beneath it all, there was always love. Why? How? Will it ever end? Can I abuse it anymore? What is she going to do for Christmas? The people who love us, the addict that is, love us because they know a different person than the addict. They love us because they know deep down there is a great deal of good inside each one of us. They love us because they live with a hope that we will find our former lives and one day the real husband, the real wife, the real father, the real mother, the real son, the real daughter, the real friend, will come home to stay.
Today, in Newfoundland & Labrador, in Canada and around the world, what I have just written is taking place. An addict is coming home, a loved one is fearing the worst and a lie is being told. Christmas, and everything it represents is left in the balance. But they still love us. My life is so rich today because of my wife, my children and a few very dedicated friends, that my heart weeps for those reaching out for help and unable to find it. We focus all our energies on the addict. The suffering, however extends far beyond the gambler, or the alcoholic or the needle pusher. The suffering extends to our spouses, our children, our parents and our friends. When the statistics are being done, all of these people are being left out of the equation. We need to remember that when the gambler puts that dollar in, many people suffer. When the alcoholic pours that drink, many people suffer. When the drug addict empties that syringe, many people suffer.
Whoever reads this, please do me a personal favour. This Christmas remember them all.
Can you hear it? Their voice that is. The sound of fear and apprehension as they try and form the words that they are afraid to speak. Did you take the money out of my account? Is the mortgage paid? Where is your cheque? Do we have enough money for groceries? Questions they ask out of fear and answers that they really don't want to hear. But they ask us and we awkwardly search for the appropriate lie. As we relate another half-hearted story their stomach churns and a sickly feeling overcomes them. Why? How? Will this ever end? Can I take anymore? What are we going to do for Christmas?
I can still hear my wife's voice. In a way it haunts me. I can still see her face. Dispair, fear, loss of hope, confusion, anger, but beneath it all, there was always love. Why? How? Will it ever end? Can I abuse it anymore? What is she going to do for Christmas? The people who love us, the addict that is, love us because they know a different person than the addict. They love us because they know deep down there is a great deal of good inside each one of us. They love us because they live with a hope that we will find our former lives and one day the real husband, the real wife, the real father, the real mother, the real son, the real daughter, the real friend, will come home to stay.
Today, in Newfoundland & Labrador, in Canada and around the world, what I have just written is taking place. An addict is coming home, a loved one is fearing the worst and a lie is being told. Christmas, and everything it represents is left in the balance. But they still love us. My life is so rich today because of my wife, my children and a few very dedicated friends, that my heart weeps for those reaching out for help and unable to find it. We focus all our energies on the addict. The suffering, however extends far beyond the gambler, or the alcoholic or the needle pusher. The suffering extends to our spouses, our children, our parents and our friends. When the statistics are being done, all of these people are being left out of the equation. We need to remember that when the gambler puts that dollar in, many people suffer. When the alcoholic pours that drink, many people suffer. When the drug addict empties that syringe, many people suffer.
Whoever reads this, please do me a personal favour. This Christmas remember them all.
posted by Taximan at 12:57 PM
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