A Poem for Mother

I wrote this in August of 2019 after I visited my mom in her apartment. It was a scene out of a nightmare, like an atom bomb of stuff had imploded inside. I still struggle to call her an addict because of the shame surrounding the disease today however, it was a choice she made that soon became irreversible. I understand now why alcoholism is a disease rather than a choice. It starts innocently enough like it did for my mother and over time, the demon erodes ones' will to survive through any other means. Eventually, there is no will and one can no longer make the choice to make changes for themselves. 

I read this poem and still get teary eyed. Watching a parent destroy themselves, unwilling to take actions for themselves is hard. Wishing they would just take your advice so they can get better is hard. Picking up the pieces every time is hard. Even harder? Deciding you have a boundary/limit and can only go as far as where they are willing to help themselves...that's devastating. 

I sit with this today, in March of 2026 and feel uneasy. I'll note this, explore this and I'm sure I will be writing about this. If we're fortunate enough to have a parental figure, we're fortunate enough to know that our parents are people too. They sometimes make choices that do not reflect who we thought they were. Maybe it's that we forget that our parents are also living life for the first time too. 

I had countless years of praying for her healing. I wasn't a Christian then, and certainly didn't know the answers I do today. I just remember nights screaming into a pillow, wishing she would come back to normal. The journey now is unpacking grief that started in the years that she was still alive and thriving.  Grief is a chameleon, it shows up as anger, resentment and sadness and even joy. Grief happens before death, it happens at every loss, before the loss is even recognized. It's painful and I've learned, pain and suffering are my teacher. Grief isn't reserved for the addicts, it's an emotion we all feel when a loss is involved.

Well, here goes. 

Dear Jana,

I remember when we turned to you for every bit of advice.

Every struggle, every boy who broke our hearts, every failed attempt at life.

You silently retreated without a sight.

Before we knew it, you barely had any fight .

I’ve watched you for years at your bedside in pain as I sat there angry, sad, screaming with tears, lonely, happy, laughing and curious.

Controlling I was—I was searching for answers.

Forcing my strength and will on you to succeed while depleting my love for everything I need.

With the many hands outreached to you from friends, family, daughters and sons—you took none.

I didn’t know you to be so cruel as I grew up cold, dark and resentful.

I don’t trust anymore but I’m slowly working on that and you’d be proud.

I’ve learned to see all perspectives and make better decisions.

I’ve learned life is a struggle and it’s possible to overcome.

I wish you would learn that too.

15 years went by I and continued to stand by your side—agony and sadness in my blood which withheld me from love.

You took advantage of that while I visited the hospitals, your homes, helped pick up your pieces and carried your burdens with a painted smile.

I tried to save you and it almost killed me but you’ll never know that death had visited me.

You’ll never know how hard I tried to fight your fight until I had a battle of my own to smite.

I just wanted to hold you again, share my stories of my new life and eat some of your home cooking but you chose life’s comforts somewhere else.

I’ll never know why as I watched you die inside. Willingly letting go as your mind gave up the battle of life. Your body is strong and holding on but in order to live I too must give up. This wasn’t  my hill to die on it was yours. 

I love you forever but I must let go—one day I’ll stop pouring my tears in your cup so that you can finally look up. See that I’m no longer here holding your hand, as you drink to your youth and say goodbye. As alcohol drowns you my tears subsided, the chalice you chose left me undivided. 

Rest In Peace now and forever.

Where does grief show up in your life? What boundaries do you need to set? Are you enabling someones behaviour?  These were some questions that used to stump me but were vital in unraveling what I considered to be my duty as a child. The selfless giver suffers the most.