Dear Tim,

I don’t believe there is a day that goes by that I do not think of you. These past years have been filled with discoveries, specifically my journey to awareness. What strikes me now is how unaware I was for so many years—all the years of your life. All it takes is the experimental drinking that all teens do; you crossed the line and couldn’t stop. I wish I had known about these things and offered to help. You were so often alone—working summer jobs, living in the horrible room upstairs in Metuchen, staying on Cape Cod when we moved, working in Alabama—away from all of us. It pains me to know how much you must have suffered. We all loved you—we just didn’t do enough. I deeply wish I knew enough then to have given you what you needed and deserved. Family secrets just kill our souls.

I love you, Tim. You are with me always.

Love,

Mom, age 73