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 Written by:
Jackie H.
09/22/2008
Put a using addict at a funeral surrounded by family and friends who know all about the trips to treatment and current state of substance abuse and what do you get? You get a woman wearing a wig. Okay, that’s not obvious to anyone but if you’ve ever been an active addict in the middle of a raging addiction and under severe emotional stress-it might start to make sense. Such is the circumstances behind my Grandmother’s funeral two weeks ago and the addict I love, my sister. Here’s how it went.
God love my angel and best friend of a Grandma. She was 94 and was an integral part of our lives growing up. To say I loved her deeply is an understatement. Losing a Grandma is awful-no matter what the age but especially tough if the relationship was as close as the one she I shared. Traveling home for her funeral and thrusting myself into the chaos and emotional claustrophobia that is my family made the whole sad event even more difficult. However, with the support of a wonderful husband and a generous helping of denial, I was doing well enough. Even at the funeral home-a surreal scene with family and friends coming to pay respects and people “catching up” in hushed tones standing twenty feet from a casket. Still, I managed.
Then I gave the Eulogy. I’ll say this-it was good. I captured the person that my Grandma was and clearly identified why and how I loved her. I didn’t even immediately cry as I was sure I would. As I was speaking, I looked around at all the faces; my brother, my parents, other family and my husband. I caught the eye of my father, proud and a little surprised. Then my brother, listening, smiling and remembering right along with me…sharing the same warm hearted emotions. I gazed at my husband's face, choked up at the memories of Grandma and empathizing with me. But as I scanned the small group gathered I stopped-quite literally, on my sister and her wig. It had to be the circumstances of delivering a eulogy that caused my shock for I had seen her in the wig all morning up until that moment. It is clear now that in that moment of emotional honesty and vulnerability I was unable to protect myself, deny or deflect with anger the painful reality of the woman in the wig.
It began early that morning at my parents home where we always stay during visits. My sister called at 6:30 am providing an excuse for her tardiness when she was not yet expected-after all, we just woke up-and so did she. Typical we thought, she woke up needing to score and anticipating a delay at our home for the funeral, she called ahead. Needless to say this was transparent to the recovering addicts and frustrating for the bewildered parents. There was another call at 7:30 am…something about the traffic, with the telltale shiver masked with feigned frustration in her voice-again recognizable only the addict who had once been that desperate. Finally, she arrived. She was dirty, hands trembling, moving rapidly and jerky to avoid detection and completely unable to look anyone in the eye. She dressed, applied a mask of makeup that would make Tammy Fae Baker blush and finally, she donned her wig. She said, “isn’t it great?”. No one wanted an argument but everyone told the truth, “No, it’s weird and you look weird too” was the general consensus. There was no changing her mind; she was going to wear the wig.
As I think about that day now I remember my own using disguise-the baseball cap days. Hat pulled down over my eyes making me nearly unidentifiable to the world around me. Those caps were my protection, my mask and my using identity. Thinking about how much I needed all those things in my using days makes me understand the wig. By dramatically changing the way she looked, it seems my sister was attempting to be someone else. I also painfully recall the need to be something other than the reality of who I was. I only hope my sister can one day be proud of who she is and understand, in hindsight, the wig and grandma’s funeral.
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Re: The Addict Wore A Wig
By rachgirl on
11/03/2008
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Re: The Addict Wore A Wig
By danM45 on
11/04/2008
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