Making Amends

Trigger Warning: Substance Abuse, Child Neglect, Child Death, Mental Health

I could feel the heat intensify as the metaphorical speaking stick was passed around the circle. My fists tightly closed in the pockets of my hoodie. hands tensely rubbing together, moving, clasping, unclasping, moving my thumbs to each of my fingers. out of pocket, back in pocket. Like my hands weren't my own and were in attempted escape from my body. After this guy is finished it was my turn, let’s just hope he’s in the rambling mood. I hear the group leader " John, thank you so much for sharing with us, your progress is incredibly inspiring. Jack, how have you been getting on?” My hands immediately froze, all bodily function must be focused on how to casually but completely evade this question. “Yeah, um, things have been going really well, you know talking to people and writing in my journal, yeah, great.” Sam looked at me with the tilted head and concern of an empathetic mother. She has been doing this far too long to take my words at face value. I acted offended hoping to move her on and away from me.

“I’m not lying, I don’t know why you’re looking at me as though you’re waiting on me to confess that I ate the cookies or something”

“Not at all, I’m just surprised that you don’t have more to say. How did it go with Julia? Did you send her that letter?” She says as her voice softened.

I couldn’t justify my upset and frustration at Sam for bringing this up, I was the one who broke down last week at the meeting. Everyone was working on their Amends making, and sharing who they’ve hurt when they were using and it just forced me to think about it. Forced out the thing I’ve been holding in for 23 years. I felt it spilling out again, I’m like an emotional ticking time bomb.

“What do I write Sam? Sorry I killed your daughter when I was drinking?! I know you trusted me to keep a close eye on her, you know with her disability and all, make sure she sat up straight, didn’t choke on her food, had everything she needed, took all her medication, but I was more interested in the bottles of whiskey that I kept in the kitchen!”

Sam seemed genuinely upset that she’d offended me somehow as her brow furrowed and her mouth sat open, unable to find what words she was supposed to speak next.

I watched her scramble for something to say and I automatically felt guilty, a feeling I have become more than accustomed to over the years. I adjusted my tone and tried to be honest.

“ I don’t know how many times I’ve written the letter. I thought it would be better to do in person at first but the thought of that, I just couldn’t, not because of me but because I just know I couldn’t spring myself on her like that, I just.. Julia trusted me and I can’t let that go, it wasn’t a silly argument or puke on the wall or cash constantly going missing. It was her daughter, she was vulnerable and needed me but I wasn’t there to check on her, I was too busy getting drunk and now Karissa is dead. That is MY fault. A girl unable to grow up, a mother, the woman I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, broken forever, her life ruined, every day hell and all of it is MY fault. I, any guilt I feel is justice, hell its not even close enough to what I deserve. But Julia, I.. I don’t want to make what’s happened anymore horrific than it already is and I don’t want to risk that. But every day when I wake up and think about what I would say, write things down through my tears and throw them out, I can’t help but think how much I need her to know how sorry I am, but I would never dream of making her feel worse, then again I think maybe it wouldn’t. At the end of each day all I have are my letters unsent and my apologies unsaid. Honestly Sam I feel like I am drowning. I really don’t know what to do.”

Sam stared at me before standing up and walking over to me. She softly placed her hands on my knees and knelt down in front of me where my head was hung in attempt to conceal my face.

“This is hard, I can’t imagine how hard this must be.” She uttered in almost a whisper. “You are braver than you know, and I’m telling you, you are a better person than you think you are. In recovery, every day is a struggle, never mind with your circumstances. Write the letter or don’t, that part is optional, but what you need to know is you are not what you did and you are not who you were.

She reached into my pockets and grabbed my sweaty hands, holding them tight and moving them with her words.

“You are not what you did. You are not who you were.”

Those words were ringing in my head all night, it felt like a sort of revelation. I feel more able to separate myself from this horrible thing, just like she said, I wasn’t what I did, I wasn’t that thing. I take a deep breath, over and over. I can feel my hands shaking and my temperature rising. I breathe again. I pull out my notebook and pen, sit at my desk and I write as I do most nights, but this time something is different.

‘Dear beautiful Karissa, it feels so strange writing your name, addressing a letter to you. I write letters trying hard to explain how sorry I am every day to your mummy, but I never end up sending them because I don’t want to make her feel sad. I was supposed to be helping you but I didn’t. Your mummy trusted me to take special care of you and I betrayed her and you. It is very hard for me to explain but I was very unwell back then, I used to drink too much and it made me do some terrible things. Your mummy loves you more than anything in the entire universe! Even more than you love your cartoons! I imagine you’re somewhere in heaven now, laughing at all us silly humans down here, like the craziest real-life cartoons! I just want to let you know how unbelievably sorry I am and how sad I am that I can’t make this better. But the love your mummy has for you goes from the moon and back infinity times over! Its bigger than anything in heaven or earth and I can’t wait for you to see her again and for her to give you the biggest, longest, tightest hug ever! And if it so happens, that I ever get to see you one day too I hope I can tell you this in person and I pray that you can forgive me. Until then I hope you’re happy and perhaps one day I might be as well.

Love Jack.