Christmas Lost, Christmas Found

Two Christmases were lost during Covid19, partly due to the virus, mostly due to family disagreements, disdain, disconnectedness, remorse, aching sadness, and addiction.

It wasn't that long ago, I remember feeling estranged from family and friends. Corona Virus presented itself as an unwanted guest in 2019, restricting family gatherings and celebrations. My mother, 82 years of age, had contracted Covid, and thankfully survived. Christmas was somewhat depressing since my mother wasn't allowed visitors. Alzheimers didn't allow her to fully understand Covid restrictions and she thought no one wanted to visit her.

While trying to adapt to Covid's lifestyle changes, another monster also lingered in my house, my son's addiction. What a convenient time to be an addict. More reasons to isolate and drink.

We were trapped in the house of pain together. My husband, in one room, working online; my son in his room, drinking and smoking, while watching Anime. I kept myself busy, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, taking care of the dogs, anything to distract my mind from my son's drinking and drugging.

Ray substituted substances to replace his psych meds.

No matter how many times I offered him his prescribed pills, out of seven days, he only took them twice. What was I trying to prove?

As much as I tried to convince him to stop, it only got worse.

Around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, I would hear him stirring around in his room. "Ray, it's time to take your pills," I said.

"I'll take them later," he answered.

I knew better than to press the matter. It would only anger him to keep on insisting, and persistence would lead to hostility and violence. I learned to walk on pins and needles when he was in a hangover state of mind. My husband stayed in the bedroom with the door closed, making sure not to get involved.

Addiction had taken root in our family for many generations. My husband had also been an alcoholic until 4 years ago, when he finally admitted his addiction and found Alcoholics Annonymous. My brothers were also recovering addicts, and a few uncles died with a bottle at their bedside. This addiction was like a plague.

Many nights I lay awake, listening to Ray's labored breathing as he slept without his C-Pap. Intoxication made breathing harder than usual. I woke up my husband, who also had sleep apnea, so that he could help our son put on his mask.

"Bob, " I said, trying to wake my husband from his sleep. "Can you go put the mask back on Ray? I can hear his labored breathing through the wall."

"Dammit," he said, as he threw the covers off, while removing his own C-Pap mask.

I could hear Bob in Ray's bedroom. "Ray, Ray, wake up. You need to put on your mask."

Bob returned back to the bed, angry. "That's a bunch of bullshit," he said, as he put his mask back on and rolled over to his side.

It wasn't easy living in a house where my husband and son were both reliant on a C-Pap machine. They both also weighed nearly 400 pounds. As much as I tried to cook healthy, it didn't matter. They both ate more than desired. It was a battle, I couldn't win. My son didn't have a healthy, fatherly, role model to rely on, and my constructive criticism was always shot down. Exercise was out of the question.

As I tried to go back to sleep, I prayed that Ray would be alive in the morning. After five years of heavy drug use and alcohol abuse, I knew it was a matter of time before Ray's health would be compromised. Feelings of contempt for my husband crept in. I was tired of hearing his excuses for why he couldn't be a better father. "My dad was a piece of shit, who wound up in prison my whole life, that's why I don't know how to be a good father."

I argued. "If you spent more time on the computer finding articles about how to be a fatherly role-model, instead of spending hours learning about poker, and watching videos, you would know."

Christmas 2020 was soon on its way. My husband decided to get a bottle of Scotch to drink on his days off. He also got my son a bottle of Tequila and a bottle of wine for me. We cooked steaks, watched T.V., and drank together on Christmas Eve. Just, another day for my son to drink, and for my husband to pretend drinking on this special occassion would be alright. Convincing my son not to drink the entire bottle would be a task.

I sat in my recliner, drinking a glass of Pinot Grigio, while admiring the artificial Christmas tree that I had decorated. I believed in the true meaning of Christmas. I believed in hope and prayers and faith. My husband, Bob, was an atheist who made fun of Christianity, which of course included me. After 20 years of marriage and arguing about religion, I decided to keep my faith to myself. I wished my husband wouldn't have been so arrogant and cruel about trying to convince me to be an atheist. It also wasn't good for our son to be exposed to such negativity.

My husband and son continued watching TV together. I felt so alone as I drank my wine. I tried to shed my inner feelings, but I couldn't. I took my glass with me and went and sat in the backyard with the dogs. I thought about my mother who had Alzheimers and reminisced about friends and family who had died from Covid. I spoke to God, outside, in the backyard. "Please Lord, rescue my son, take away his addiction and guide him to a life of hope and redemption."

Unfortunately, Ray began experimenting with drugs when he turned 13. First, it was marijuana, then by the time he reached 18, he was also using other drugs, washed down with alcohol. Drinking and smoking with his friends was the highlight of his life. I didn't want to accept the use of marijuana and alcohol. But, as Ray got older, my husband grew content with him smoking marijuana, until it got Ray in trouble at school.

If only my husband would have listened to me when Ray first started using marijuana. "I think it's a bad idea for Ray to smoke weed. Can you please talk to him?"

Bob replied, "It's just marijuana, a phase he's going through. I did the same thing. I'd still smoke it if it wasn't for my job. As log as he smokes at home with his friends, it'll be alright."

As soon as Ray graduated from high school, he got caught with cocaine and went to jail for one day, until we posted bond. We hired an attorney and he received probation. As soon as probation was over, Ray went right back to drinking and drugging. Once again, I blamed my husband for not caring enough to be a good role model and build a relationship with our son.

November 2021, my husband contracted the Delta virus from a fellow employee at work. My husband was hospitalized for a week and treated for the virus and diabetes. One of his co-workers died from the virus during the same week. Although we had our differences, I was beyond worry and concern while my husband was in the hospital, not knowing if he would survive. But, God answers prayers.

We spent Christmas alone, the three of us. We had our usual Christmas meal and drink. No Christmas tree this time.

October, 2022 was another challenging life event for all of us. Ray, still in his addiction, became ill. His stomach and chest were hurting and he asked me to take him to the hospital to detox. I immediately called our insurance and found a hospital to take him to. He stayed in the hospital for 2 weeks, then went straight to rehab. He stayed in rehab for 30 days, then graduated.

At the age of 24, Ray decided to change his life. He joined a gym and works out daily. He has dedicated his life to not using. My husband and I are so proud of him. He has now completed 90 days sober, right before Christmas 2022.

Although it's been a long haul, my prayers have been answered. After my husband's bout with Covid, something in him changed. He became more sensitive and loving. We both love our son unendlessly and want him to succed in life, no matter how many obstacles there are to battle. I will always believe in prayers and miracles, one day at a time.