A Graceful Ending

While I was with my son, I wasn't worked up, nervous, panicked, as I would have normally been.  I had a feeling my daughter had been drinking, but I wasn't in that full-throttle, Tasmanian Devil, mind racing mode.  I was calm.  I talked with him, made him a sandwich, and then explained what I felt was happening.  Let me pause here and say that my son loves his sister.  He hates, though, how this disease is changing her and effecting the rest of the family.  At times he is very patient, at others, he is disgusted.  Yesterday, though, the calm I was feeling seemed to spread to him, and we were able to talk about what I was suspecting without getting into an argument. 

He drove me to the pool.  I took a book, and sat in her car, until she was through.  Then, we talked.  She admitted that she had been drinking.  (She has told me that she drinks to be more out-going OR numb and stop the thinking of things she regrets).  Yesterday, it was to be out-going.  The plus side of our conversation was that she opened up to me about issues she has never really talked (or admitted) to me about.  We didn't yell.  (I kept the feeling of love for her NOT resentment for the disease at the front of my thoughts).  It was a good talk, and she mentioned, again, that this is starting to ruin her life.  When we got home, she went up to her room to (I thought) drink some more and pass out.  I did not ask for the bottle, I didn't look for the bottle, I just covered her up, told her I loved her, and left the room.  Later, I went into check on her, and she was awake, just staring.  I asked her if she was okay, and she just started crying.  I laid down besider her, put my arms around her and started praying over her, out loud.  I kissed her, again, and left the room.  Before I went to bed, I checked on her, again.  She was still awake, and I asked her if she was okay. She said, "No, but I have to own this."  "Own what?"  "Own what I"ve done.  I have another bottle."   "Really?" (my heart double skipped)  "Yes, it's either over there or under the bed, I can't remember."  "What do you want to do?"  "Dump it out." (my heart started beating faster)  "You want to dump it out?"  "I can't get up now, I want you to dump it out." (I could hear it in my ears)  "Are you sure?"  "Mom, I'm sure.  Take it and dump it out."  I found it under her bed.  A jug (1/2 gallon?) of White Tavern vodka.  I took it and dumped it out, whispering a million thank yous to God, at the sink.
Then I asked her if she needed anything else. We sat there for a few minutes, and then she asked for a grilled cheese sandwich.  So, we went downstairs, and had a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup.  A healing meal for a healing moment.  I prayed a thank you for an experience that has never happened, before.  I am praying now that she is working toward recovery.  Time will tell, but I can't help but feel...no, know, that devine arms were holding us last night.