All the Little Children Need to Come Home

Chapter Five: Grief and a Hard Choice

"Maybe he went with Todd," someone said, bringing her back to the present.

Alice swallowed and started to reply. No, she could not handle the toad going as well.

After the last of family members had left, Alice shut the door behind them and turned to Adam, Lindsay, Cathy and her brother.

"Can you stay just a little bit longer? I know it's late, but I really don't want to be alone right now."

They joined her as she walked back into the family room, and Alice smiled sadly when a loud grunt came from the family room. Ben had fallen asleep in his favorite recliner, arms crossed, his face turned away in despair.

She wanted them to stay so she wouldn't drink. She knew there was alcohol in the house, probably in a paper bag behind the couch and in hidden places all around the house. Vodka did not appeal to her. She had almost five years of sobriety and one thing she had to learn for herself. If she were going to blow away all that sobriety, it would NOT be a random, desperate act. At least she hoped so. She would get exactly what she had given up years ago. She would have a Bacardi and coke and go out with a bang. One thing she learned through the years of working a program.

If she started drinking anything, one would not be enough.

"I told him he should sober up or we'll go tomorrow without him," said Adam, nodding towards his father, referring to the funeral home where they had an appointment early the next day. His face reflected the pain it caused him to tell his father that. Alice looked at Adam, blinking back tears and nodded.

They spent the next hour talking, smiling, remembering, absorbing. Alice glanced at the DVR clock and saw that it close to ten o'clock. She asked her brother and Cathy if they would join them tomorrow to help with the funeral arrangements. He embraced her firmly and nodded, reiterating the time.

She turned to Cathy, and they held each other for a long time. Alice met her sister-in-law for the first time over thirty-five years ago, when her brother dated her in college. The years had brought them together as sisters, and they were best friends.

Alice watched them walk down the sidewalk, glanced around the ground. She sighed, and closed the door.

"Let's write the obituary. You may not feel like it tomorrow," Lindsay suggested.

Alice looked at her daughter-in-law and together they sat down and wrote a simple, beautiful memoir of her son. Lindsay would place it in the newspapers in the morning. With an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, Alice hugged the young lady who brought happiness and comfort to her oldest son. She was overwhelmed with appreciation that Lindsay calmly guided her through the wording of the piece.

When Adam and Lindsay prepared to leave, just before midnight, the prickle of her addiction swelled through Alice. She really wanted a drink. She knew it would drown these emotions and still her tortured thoughts. She not only wanted absolute oblivion from the events of this day. She wanted to die. She could not face a day, or even envision a future, without her son.

But, she stopped to remind herself of one thing she learned throughout the past years of recovery. Thinking about drinking and doing it were two different things. One thing she knew for certain right now. No matter how much she drank, how many medications she could take, if somehow she survived, she'd be faced with that stark certainty

Here son was gone. He would never be back. Disappearing from the pain would not change a thing.

"Mama Dukes....!" Adam said, gently.

Snapping back from those dire thoughts, she looked at Adam, saw his concern his pain ,and knew with certainty, she would not die. She could not die. Even though her mind craved oblivion, her heart remained here. She had to stay for Adam.

For what would it say to the one left behind, if she couldn't survive without the other.

She committed to getting through this night without drinking. She could do it. She would do it.

"I'm okay," she told them, as they walked to the front door.

"No doubt," Adam said, as he hugged her tightly.

Adam opened the door, and stopped, looking down at the doorstop.

"Oh God, Mom-look."

Below him was the craggy toad, in the center of the doorstop facing towards the driveway, as if to say, "No more harm will come to this house. Not on my watch."

Adam took a snapshot of the little one, the light from the lamppost casting a halo behind it. As they hugged each other again, they felt new strength. The fact that a little creature could bring out that feeling was extraordinary. It was a sign that Todd was still here and they would get through this together.

Alice watched his SUV move up the driveway until it disappeared around the corner. She went to check on her Ben. He was sleeping deeply, covered with the Nationals Blanket that was given to Todd by his brother just this past summer for his twenty-sixth birthday. She set a glass of ice water on the shelf near her husband. She did not wake him. He needed the comfort that sleep would bring. She knew that. She kissed the top of his head, and went upstair.

Someone had closed Todd's door to his room. She opened it, finally feeling an emotion other than sadness for the first time that day. She was angry that someone had closed the door. She leaned against the doorway, looking at the place where just the evening before, she had spent time with her son.

She imagined him lying there now, deep in sleep. Then the memory of this morning flashed and at last, for the first time that day, she lay on his bed and cried. The ache in her heart quietly searched for comfort and tears soaked his pillow. It was a silent, broken sound that muffled in the room and it lasted until she was too exhausted to cry anymore.

She stood and numbly walked to the shower. The tears that flowed this time were washed away by the comforting shower. Her body cried out for sleep and she knew that she had to at least lay down.

Following her usual nighttime routine was automatic. She set the alarm for 7:05am and set the clothes she would wear in the morning. She had one thing on her mind. She did not want to drink. She did not want the chaos whispering in her ear, we know what will make you feel so much better. We know how to handle this. Through years of practice and listening to stories, she needed a meeting. Getting into bed, wearing one of Todd's favorite long-sleeved shirts, she turned on the TV, and leaned back.

She felt absolutely nothing at all. She reached by the bed and held the pillow Todd had given her for Mother's Day just last year. It read, "A mother's heart is a wonderful place where her children always have a home."

Alice fell asleep, holding the pillow tightly. She wanted to get through this night knowing, that when she woke up, she would not have to remember. She would know that her son was gone.

She needed to sleep. She needed to be rested. Finally, she slept, dreamless until the morning alarm.

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