Recovery August 28, 2015

My last entry, now almost five months ago, involved my decision to pass up an opportunity to study architecture in Rome.  That conclusion came from worry over a daughter struggling with profoundly challenging issues.  It was right not to go:  Annie disappeared in late May, just when I would have been departing, and it took every bit of strength and tenacity to get her back.  I won’t go into the details of her disappearance or her rescue, but suffice it to say that was an experience that I never thought she or I would have, and one that has taken me all summer to begin to digest. 

During her disappearance, I thought it was very likely that I would lose her completely, that she would die.  It was time for me to prepare myself for this, and to let people close to us know as well.

I went to see one of my oldest and dearest friends Barbara and her husband Warren in the evening, about four days after she disappeared.  At this point, I knew where she was and that she was held captive in a hideous revolving door of drugs and abuse.  I needed to tell them of my grief.  I needed to ready them, too, that they might never see her again.

I went to see Risa and Brian, parents of Annie’s high school boyfriend.  They loved her too, I knew.  They knew nothing of her downhill spiral over the past few years, and when I shared her deadly journey with them, Brian burst into tears.  It was a terrible tale to tell.

Ultimately, through the work of a Colorado detective and a San Francisco police office – both extraordinary, both women – Annie was pulled from disaster one more time.

I tell you all this to explain why I too have disappeared.  Annie has spent the summer in safety.  She has started college again.  She seems to be thriving.  How long will this last?  How can one human heart take so much pain?