Approaching Too Far Gone: An Addiction Memoir

Too Good To Be True

"You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you."

My parents sing in unison to an embarrassed Angie. And when the song hits the chorus, they both start to do their best Frankie Valli impression at the top of their lungs:

"I love you, baby!

And if it's quite alright, I need you baby

To warm the lonely nights, I love you baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh pretty baby

Don't bring me down I pray

Oh pretty baby, now that I've found you stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you!"

Pointing and dancing around her the whole time, they finish their driveway performance by each landing a big kiss on Angie's red cheeks. Aubrey and I feel awkward too, but we can't help but laugh. When the chorus hits again, we all sing along—even Angie.

The van is packed, and we can't wait to begin our journey to Disney World. My dad calls it, "The family trip we'll remember for the rest of our lives."

Taylor and I sit on the first bench seat of the van. With Aubrey's selfie stick, Taylor takes a picture to commemorate the beginning of our journey. Behind us in the middle row sits Angie and her boyfriend; they couldn't look more eager as it's both of their first times going to Disney World. In the last row of the van sits Aubrey, her boyfriend, and our dog, Bella. They look tired, but happy. In the front seats are my parents. My dad is glowing and next to him, shining the brightest is our mom. She's with her family, she's sober, and the problems of the days leading up to our trip are now in the past. We all smile from ear to ear. We're headed to our favorite place in the world and our family is all here.

Even though we're in the car for twenty hours, the ride to Florida never feels shorter.

Neither the traffic nor the thunderstorms ruin our happiness. The house we rented has four large bedrooms, a jacuzzi tub, and a personal pool. We're going to paradise.

For the first three days of our vacation, it pours, but we don't let the rain bother us. Instead, we drive out to different beaches until, as my dad puts it, we "find the sun." As if rewarded for our diligence, we have perfect weather the rest of the week.

The magic of Disney World touches each of us as we walk down Main Street towards Cinderella's castle in the Magic Kingdom. We stop in front of Mickey and Walt for a picture—the 'Fantastic Five' together again. The euphoria our family feels is almost indescribable. It's like for a long time we had lost our mom and there was a big hole in our hearts, and now magically she has reappeared as the beautiful, loving, funny, and caring person she always was.

Whether it is walking around the parks, riding the roller coasters, or watching the fireworks, every little part of the trip is fantastic. We joke, laugh, and love without a care in the world.

Later in the week, we jump back in the van to drive to St. Pete's for a day in the sun. My dad shows us his old college campus and takes us to a spot on the beach he remembers frequenting in his youth. It's the first time we've been to the west side of Florida and had a chance to swim in the Gulf of Mexico, so we all look forward to seeing the crystal-clear water.

"Ew, this water is green just like the Jersey Shore," Ang says disappointed once we arrive.

To our surprise, the storms earlier in the week brought debris and bacteria to the shore. The sand and water are both covered in it.

"Oh well, at least we're here!" I respond with optimism.

We set up camp on the crowded beach and relax the day away. After some time, Aubrey and her boyfriend go on a walk to find seashells while Angie and her boyfriend look for a bathroom to deal with the stomach bug he caught the day before. Taylor and I leave the beach to find a cool place to eat. We walk around for about twenty minutes and find a perfect restaurant advertising the best burgers in town. When we walk back to our spot, I notice my dad sitting alone.

"Where's Mom?" I ask calmly.

"She just left to go to the bathroom," he answers with his eyes shut and head tilted towards the sun.

I sit for a second, but I'm suddenly restless. Angie and her boyfriend return, but without Mom.

"Ang, did you see Mom?" I ask with a growing apprehension.

"No, why?" she responds.

Not trying to make anyone anxious, I make up an excuse, "I was just wondering. Dad said she went to the bathroom. But maybe she went to find a new beach towel. Hers is really old."

A sense of dread pours over me. I whisper to Taylor that I'm going to find Mom, and not to tell anybody else.

I head to the bathroom and stand outside for a few minutes, but Mom never comes out. I walk around the beach shop, but I don't have any luck there either. Like a magnet, my eyes move to the giant sign that reads, "Larry's Beach Bar and Grill."

As I look across the street, I see a large, round bar with a few patrons and one bartender. A lady attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible signals him over.

"Please, it can't be her. Please, God, don't let it be her," I say aloud.

I venture closer to the bar, shaking with panic just in time to see my mom gulp down a glass of straight vodka.

A familiar dark voice whispers in my ear, "She'll always be mine..."

If you want to continue to read more about my family's struggle with alcoholism, please check out my memoir Too Far Gone. Proceeds are donated to addiction foundations.