For all of those out of reach
I struggled my whole life with my mother’s addiction wanting nothing more than to pull her through to the other side and it took nearly fifty years to learn that I could only give her love and support, but could not change or help her overcome. I was sitting in Zahara de los Atunes, when I read that Amy Winehouse had died of an overdose and I read that her mother had said that her death had been only a matter of time. I thought about this when I saw that Whitney Houston had died of an overdose and how her mother had come to her bedside once and said, I will not let Satan take you from me.
I was reminded of the power of addiction when recently a friend had succumbed for the umpteenth time, and I knew it was not a “ha ha” in your face act, but one of shame and helplessness and I also knew there is no way to reach out and pull this one you love out of the chains of addiction. So today, when a friend told us of the sadness of another loved one lost to addiction, I looked over at Tin who was standing in the doorway and stared really hard at him, through him, hoping he already has the core strength needed to not succumb – he craves a life of music – the otherworld of airy thinness – there are many there who found nirvana and ended only with the continuous hunger of addiction.
A child, a mother, a friend, a celebrity, I read with interest that Sinead O’Connor said musicians are sort of ephemeral, enduring the pain of life to bring joy to others. I still hear the lullabies my mother sang to me as a child and wish I could mimic her sweet voice but mine is low and husky, meant for other types of singing.