My mother died in May, halfway into her 102nd year. Her middle decades were roiled by alcoholism. The gentle intervention of a remarkable lady restored my mother to her pre-addiction self for the final three decades of her life.
For my mother, a pattern of social drinking gradually progressed into prolonged bouts of inebriation during which she would unleash verbal abuse on loved ones who might be nearby. It was very difficult to be around her at such times.
Dr. Clif CleavelandOur family tried all the standard interventions, including outpatient and inpatient psychiatric care and a variety of support groups. A particular approach to sobriety might be effective up to several months before a relapse occurred. Siblings and longtime friends who lived in other cities visited in efforts to help her into sustained abstinence, but every tactic eventually failed.
One weekday afternoon, when my mother was in her late 60s and living in South Carolina with my father, a lady from her church called. Sarah T, as we shall name this saint, was not a close friend but rather an acquaintance of my mother’s from some church activity. Sarah T asked my mother for a private chat in a sitting room at one end of the dwelling. She returned weekly for a 30-minute conversation with my mother who, from Sarah T’s first visit, did not consume another alcoholic beverage.
I never learned what was said or prayed during those private meetings. When pressed years later, my mother would reply simply that they spoke in confidence.
As far as I know, Sarah T appeared on her own volition. Perhaps word of my mother’s addiction had become known at her church. Or a neighbor might have known that Sarah T had a talent for reaching out to women in distress.
Her successful intervention with my mother raises the question of how many times the loved ones of someone struggling with addiction can try to extend help. An addict can wear out the love and patience of family, friends and health professionals. When do we give up? Sarah T would answer simply, “Never.”
Years into her visits with my mother, Sarah T became progressively ill. Her physicians determined that she had AIDS, likely acquired from a blood transfusion many years earlier during surgery to repair a cardiac valve. This was at a time when persons with HIV/AIDS were subject to discrimination and other ugly behavior from a frightened and uninformed public.
While undergoing the limited treatment options then available, Sarah T used the remaining months of her life to campaign vigorously for understanding and humane care for sufferers of this new disease. She addressed religious and secular gatherings with passion.
I was sent a video of a talk that Sarah T delivered to her home congregation one Sunday evening. Without a trace of self-pity, she challenged her listeners to live their faith by loving all of God’s creatures.
I do not know how many other people Sarah T assisted or rescued during her life. I place her in the company of saints who, through their actions and examples, remind us of the mystery and the majesty of human concern. We call this “unqualified love.”
Thirty years of sobriety and the restoration of my mother are the gifts this holiday season that I shall never forget.
Contact Clif Cleaveland at cleaveland1000@ comcast.net.