“Kids, your father is a drug addict.

” My mom stutters as she delivers the life changing

news to my siblings and I. New Year’s Day, 2017, and today I will learn the most haunting news

of my adolescent life. My five-year-old sister giggles away in the living room, unaware of the

terrors being shared just down the hall. An empty driveway that would soon haunt us all paired

with the dial tone of my mother's phone calling my sister at college. My mother, sister and I

burst into tears while my brother stared blankly ahead, unable to experience any emotion. The

house went quiet, nothing could be heard over the crash of a million thoughts racing through my

head.

In the weeks that followed, my Dad came and went, staying with a friend while he and

my Mom ‘sorted things out.’ I didn't think they would figure things out, or that he’d ever come

back. In the beginning, he would come home each morning, keeping up appearances so my little

sister couldn’t tell something was wrong. Sometimes he would be home for short increments at a

time. A week, two weeks, and then not at all.

First, I was upset, crying at every family function when he didn’t show up, every time I

heard his name. Despite these struggles, life outside the house had to go on. At work, my shame

and sadness drove me to the quiet of a walk-in produce cooler. I could not stay in there, I had to

return to business as usual, wiping my eyes and shutting the door on my pain. It's never good to

keep secrets, especially ones as life changing as these. After all, secrets are just the lies we are

too afraid to admit to ourselves.

 I’ve grown up learning love can fix everything, every love story is a fairytale made by a

fairy godmother and when the clock strikes midnight, Prince Charming will be there. Last year, I

began to learn that fairy tales aren't real-life and sometimes love can't fix things. I want to

believe that my parents love will be strong enough to get through this. Maybe it is.

I had to grow up and be what my mom has always been for me; strong. Nothing will

break my heart as much as it did when I had to look my strong, loving mom in the face and tell

her that it was okay, when I knew it wasn’t, that she wasn’t.

Mom stayed with Dad, so desperately fighting for their love as I knew she would. My

Mom is a lover in every sense of the word, she is so selfless and passionate in everything she

believes. I know this about my Mom, but I also know that addiction is a life sentence, a struggle

for all involved.

Dad had been home almost a year when he left again and the oh so familiar emptiness of

the house returned. My “house,” for it no longer felt like “home.”

This time was different though, and Dad wasn’t just staying with his friend. He went to

seek help, professionals, and they would help him become the man we all knew he could be.

My Dad came home four days later. May 5th, 2018, Mother's Day. I remember the day so

vividly. I felt conflicting emotions: relief and happiness that he was home, anger and fear that

he wouldn’t stay. “This will work, he’s getting better. He’s gonna stay better. He’s trying.”

That’s what Mom keeps saying. I don’t have her blind sense of faith.
 My relationship with my Dad has since faltered, but my parents continue to fight for their

love. Our family knows that it isn’t going to be easy, that fighting addiction is an uphill battle.

No, there are no fairy tales or fairy god mothers, but honestly, that’s okay. Learning that love is

strong, even powerful, is a real thing. It is not something to hide from.