The Power and Promise of Love

I was born into a cycle of drug and alcohol addiction in northeastern Oklahoma. My childhood was lost to selfish parents who were only attentive toward me when they needed me for something to further their own agendas.

As a young girl I tried to earn my parents' love and instead learned how to numb my pain by using substances to which no child should ever be exposed. I never stopped trying to gain their love even when I knew it was impossible; when I finally knew they were incapable of loving anyone or anything else.

When Bub Keen came into my life, he laid down the law. Neither drugs or liquor would be allowed in our relationship. By then I had three children, two of whom were under the age of five. But Bub saw beyond the hard, bitter facts of my life. He lifted the veil and saw into my heart. My soul. He saw a woman that maybe, just maybe, I could begin to believe in as much as he did.

My story is difficult. Long foggy days-drunken days-punctuated by moments of sober clarity that brought joy and hope. All of those days reflected the roller coaster that addicts, and those who love them, find themselves riding month after month, year after year.

It was in one of those moments of clarity that I suggested to Bub that my life was worthy of a book or a movie. Maybe my story could help someone else. That's when Bub promised me that one day we'd get around to writing that book. That I'd be able to tell my story. We were young. We had time.

And then I died.