We considered ourselves a normal, middle-class American family, a good family. My wife, Michelle, and I\u00a0lived in a nice neighborhood with our two sons, Gordon, 15, and his brother, Gavin, 13.\u00a0The local schools\u00a0the boys attended were excellent. We were active in our church. We ate our meals together. We did things\u00a0as a family.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s why it was so hard for us to see what was happening to Gordon, even when the warning signs were\u00a0plainly there. Psychologists call it denial. For a long time we denied that our son was using drugs, and his\u00a0worsening behavior was ripping apart our household.<\/p>\n
It started with Gordon cutting classes. His grades plunged. We were called in for conferences at\u00a0school. At\u00a0home he grew uncommunicative, spending hours in his room, the door defiantly locked. He skipped meals.\u00a0When he did emerge he was often belligerent. He fought with Gavin, to whom he\u2019d always been such a\u00a0wonderful big brother. Yet it was as if Gordon were becoming a different person, someone we didn\u2019t know\u00a0or even like. Still, we blindly refused to suspect drugs. Not our son. Not our home.<\/p>\n
Michelle and I are both dyslexics. Gordon too is afflicted with this frustrating learning disorder. We became\u00a0convinced that dyslexia, along with the usual teenage upheavals, was the root of Gordon\u2019s trouble. It had to\u00a0be that. So we decided to send him away to a private school specializing in dyslexic kids<\/a>. But Gordon was\u00a0strangely infuriated by our plan. \u201cI won\u2019t go!\u201d he howled.\u00a0\u201cYou can\u2019t make me!\u201d He stalked off to his room.<\/p>\n I felt bad forcing on him something he didn\u2019t want, but Michelle and I were determined to spare him what we\u00a0went through as students. \u201cYou\u2019re going,\u201d I said angrily through the door and above the roaring music. \u201cAnd\u00a0that\u2019s that.\u201d<\/p>\n I practically had to carry Gordon bodily from the house when it came time. He cursed. He kicked out a\u00a0window. He cried. Eventually we wore him down and convinced him he had to go. Once inside the car he\u00a0abruptly quieted down and slept quite heavily the whole drive there.<\/p>\n Gordon only did more poorly at private school, despite faculty assurances that he was bright and capable of\u00a0the work. He was suspended several times. Michelle and I were devastated. What is going wrong?<\/em> I\u2019d lie\u00a0awake at night wondering. When Gordon visited home he\u2019d hole up in his room, blasting music and burning\u00a0incense, while we sat silently in the living room below, burying ourselves in the newspaper, blocking out\u00a0what was happening above our heads. Hardly ever did he speak a civil word to Gavin. Gavin just couldn\u2019t\u00a0understand what was happening to his brother.<\/p>\n This was not the good son we\u2019d raised and loved. Where had we gone wrong? Parents make mistakes, but\u00a0what had we done to cause such alarming behavior in our boy? The more we tried to help, the harder he\u00a0pushed us away.<\/p>\n One night while I was on a business trip in Europe, I got a panicky call from Michelle. She was\u00a0tremendously upset about the results of a physical Gordon had taken to attend camp that coming summer.\u00a0The exam included a drug scan. \u201cHe tested positive for marijuana,\u201d she divulged tearfully. \u201cWhat are we\u00a0going to do?\u201d\u00a0I was stunned. Even though the fractured pieces of Gordon\u2019s puzzling behavior began to tumble into place\u00a0before I hung up the phone, I was still nonplussed. How many times had we warned him against drugs?\u00a0How many times had Gordon promised us he\u2019d never try them?<\/p>\n There was nothing to tell Michelle but to pray and hang tight till I came home. The rest of that trip is a\u00a0blur.\u00a0When I got back I lost no time confronting my son. I was frantic to get this thing out in the open and deal\u00a0with it.<\/p>\n \u201cYou turned up positive for marijuana on your physical, Gordon,\u201d I said, my voice squeezing out the words.<\/p>\n His eyes widened slightly\u2014he\u2019d been caught. Then he smiled. \u201cOkay, Dad.\u201d He took a deep breath. \u201cI…I\u00a0tried it once. It was still in my system, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n Silence. I fumbled for what to say next. \u201cI\u2019ll never do it again,\u201d he offered. Our eyes locked. Suddenly I knew\u00a0he was lying. He\u00a0knew I knew he was lying. But Gordon stuck to his guns. I could not believe that my own\u00a0son was lying so effortlessly to my face about using marijuana. Finally he just climbed the stairs to his room\u00a0and closed the door.<\/p>\n Michelle and I talked with our doctor, then made the decision. We would have Gordon treated in a drug\u00a0rehabilitation center. We\u2019d been blind for a long time; now we wanted to do everything to stop the problem\u00a0before it got any worse.<\/p>\n But it was already too late. At the rehab Gordon admitted\u00a0to taking not only marijuana but uppers, downers,\u00a0PCP, cocaine, LSD and a slew of other substances we\u2019d never even heard of. Our son was a drug addict.<\/p>\n Suddenly so much made sense: the moodiness and hostility, the grades, the wild rage at going off to a new\u00a0school away from his drug source, the occasional missing money we couldn\u2019t explain\u2014all of it. It all made\u00a0terrible, shocking sense.<\/p>\n A counselor forced us to confront the grim statistical reality of our situation, a reality we could no longer\u00a0deny. \u201cThere\u00a0are thirty-six kids in this unit,\u201d she said carefully. \u201cIn five years twelve will be off drugs, twelve\u00a0will still be using and twelve will be dead.\u201d<\/p>\n Later we sat in our parked car and cried. Please, God,<\/em> I prayed desperately, please don\u2019t let my child die.<\/em>\u00a0Gordon would need six to eight weeks of intensive inpatient therapy, they said, at a cost of nearly $900 a\u00a0day. Our insurance covered only 30 days.<\/p>\n \u201cHow will we ever manage?\u201d I asked Michelle on the way home.\u00a0She just stared out the car window. Neither of us had an answer.<\/p>\n We consulted a banker friend from church about a second mortgage. It proved unnecessary. Two days\u00a0before our insurance ran dry Gordon was kicked out of rehab for fighting with the staff.\u00a0Back home again he\u00a0retreated to his room, isolating himself more than ever. The company\u2014and the hours\u2014he kept worried us\u00a0sick. We never knew what he was going to do next.<\/p>\n We read books and joined self-help groups. We prayed. We cried. We got angry. We prayed harder. But\u00a0Gordon didn\u2019t change. There seemed to be nothing more we could do for him. At Al-Anon<\/a> and Families\u00a0Anonymous we heard about \u201ctoughlove,\u201d how we had to stop blaming ourselves for Gordon\u2019s problems. We\u00a0had to think about Gavin and what Gordon was doing to his brother\u2019s home life. We had to stop letting\u00a0Gordon\u2019s addiction wrench apart our whole family.<\/p>\n Finally Michelle and I had no choice but to go hard on him. We\u2019d reached the end of our\u00a0fraying rope. We\u2019d\u00a0tried everything. Looking Gordon straight in the eye, I said, \u201cIn one month you\u2019ll be retested for drugs. If you\u00a0flunk you\u2019ll have the option of going into treatment, or leaving home for good\u2014or until you kick drugs.\u201d<\/p>\n I paused, wondering\u00a0if my words had hit their mark. Gordon glowered, speechless. \u201cFrom now on,\u201d I\u00a0continued, \u201cyou\u2019ll be home by curfew or you\u2019ll sleep elsewhere. Same goes for mealtimes.\u00a0This isn\u2019t a truck\u00a0stop.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe love you,\u201d added Michelle, \u201cbut we don\u2019t like who you\u2019re turning into, and we won\u2019t tolerate it in our\u00a0home.\u201d<\/p>\n A month later, after he\u2019d slept elsewhere many nights and missed many meals, Gordon retested positive.\u00a0We stuck with the ultimatum. He packed an old knapsack and left, slamming the door.\u00a0With all my might\u00a0I\u00a0resisted running after him.\u00a0The weeks that followed were painful for our family. Things fell apart. The demands of a new job put\u00a0pressure on me at a time when I didn\u2019t think I could take any more. To combat the anxiety she felt over\u00a0Gordon\u2019s leaving, Michelle took up aerobics<\/a>, only to injure both ankles at class and end up on crutches.\u00a0She became more depressed than ever. We had no idea where Gordon was but we knew he was suffering.<\/p>\n Then, while riding his bike, Gavin had a dreadful accident. Michelle called me from the hospital; Gavin had\u00a0been taken there in a coma. I rushed to his side, frantic. The doctors could promise nothing. The only thing\u00a0to do was wait and see if he came out of it, wait and pray<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cGordon should know about this,\u201d I said to Michelle\u00a0grimly. \u201cHe may have turned his back on us, but he still\u00a0has a brother.\u201d<\/p>\n The next day we cruised the streets. We found him hanging out with some druggie friends. He was\u00a0reluctant to talk so I minced no words. \u201cYour brother\u2019s had a bad accident. He\u2019s in a\u00a0coma. We don\u2019t know\u00a0what\u2019ll happen.\u201d<\/p>\n I searched his eyes for a flicker of worry. But \u201cYou all right, Mom?\u201d was all he managed to mumble. Michelle\u00a0nodded. Then he turned and left to be with his friends. We drove home in silence. It\u2019s in Your hands now,\u00a0Lord.<\/em><\/p>\n Early one sunny morning a few days later we heard a faint knock at our door. It was Gordon\u2014deathly thin,\u00a0weak, bedraggled. His vacant, red-rimmed eyes met ours. \u201cI\u2019m ready,\u201d he barely\u00a0whispered, \u201cto go where\u00a0you want. Take me today.\u201d<\/p>\n Parents make mistakes, but what had we done to cause such alarming behavior in our boy?\u00a0We put Gordon in a drug treatment program where he got help in fighting his addiction one day at a\u00a0time<\/a>\u2014and where we too learned how to recover as a family. We didn\u2019t expect miracles. The\u00a0simple realities of\u00a0addiction had long before taught us not to expect either good or bad, but to accept God\u2019s will in our lives.<\/p>\n Miraculously Gavin pulled out of his coma with no permanent damage. We still don\u2019t know exactly what\u00a0brought Gordon to our doorstep that bright morning not long after the accident, but we know that somehow\u00a0a power greater than his addiction drew him home.<\/p>\n The four of us will never be quite the same. Drug addiction<\/a> unravels the home, not just the addict. But in a\u00a0way I think that recovery has made us a closer family, a family that was forced to draw on love to keep from\u00a0coming apart.<\/p>\n