A Letter to My Nephew in Recovery

Dear M,

As you start your role as a new father, I imagine you have a ton of emotions: an unconditional love for your child, fear of the unknown, and overwhelmed but happy and in awe. All parents go through this. You may have wanted to wait on having a child, but you have the support of both sides of the family, and that means a lot.

You’re likely wishing your father, my brother, were here to welcome the baby and spend time with you right now. You were 15 when he died, and I remember it well. You looked so lost and were trying so hard to keep it together and support your mother. You were at an age when you really needed him. Years earlier you saw firsthand how he went off the deep end, and it must have hurt like heck when your parents separated because of it.

I remember the day I gave you a pep talk to try and keep you from getting into drugs and following in his footsteps. I was praying it could work. “You can do it,” I told you, just as I had said to your father. I’m sure I reminded you you’re genetically predisposed to substance use disorder and had to be careful.

But then it started: the behavior I’m familiar with because of your father. You got caught drinking your freshman year at college. My heart sank; I was afraid you’d be thrown out. However, you were able to stay in school until you decided to drop out of your own accord. You started to deliver pizza and use heroin with friends.

You weren’t getting along with your mother and her partner and moved to another state to live with some sober high school friends and tried to make a go of it in landscaping. That didn’t work out and you returned home. You entered a treatment center—not for the first time—and the next thing I knew you were on methadone to help you stay off heroin.

Occasionally I think that if only we lived closer, maybe I could have done more to keep you on the straight and narrow. If only wishes could make things happen. But I was happy when I called recently to see how you’re doing and you had some really good news. You’re working at a treatment center. That’s great—people in recovery can be so helpful to others trying to recover because they’ve “been there” and know what others are going through. I hope it means you’ll get more training, and who knows, maybe you’ll want to return to college for a degree in counseling or social work at some point.

I can’t wait to see the baby at a christening or baptism.

Note: My nephew has given me permission to write about him.