A Story Without a Happy Ending

Worry over a child who just can't seem to get things right.

On a weekend when my family celebrated a happy event, the graduation of son Jack, another family marked a family story with an ending that wasn't happy.  The story was told at Artomatic 2012.  I can't tell my own happy story without mention of this one.

With his mother in 2005

In 2008 James Phillips III died of a heroin overdose.  He was the son of our long-time friends and we were heartbroken.   James' parents, Terri and Jim are in the process of selling the family home in Baltimore to move to a smaller place and as a part of getting their home ready for sale Terri gathered up the artwork she created during the years after his death.  It tells a story that is the dread of every mother.

Sucked into an inferno

Addiction is a family disease.  It twists what should grow straight.  It sucks us into an inferno of lies and despair that masquerades as a bright sunny day.  It leaves us at the bottom of a pit with only a crooked ladder to escape. 

The display shows many ladders, none were sturdy or well-grounded.  We got the feeling of how uncertain life with a child who constantly flirts with disaster can be.  Worry, waiting, counting the hours or days since she'd known where James was or what he was doing dominate the images. 

James, who had bacterial meningitis as an infant, had always been a son with special challenges.  As he grew so did the challenges.  He'd been in and out of special schools and residential treatment facilities.  He's been to live with an Uncle in Minnesota in hopes of a geographic cure, complete with a  new faith.  Nothing worked.  In the end he returned home, and tried to grow back into his family. 

His short life had love.  He had a several years period of a steady girlfriend, cross country travel, working for months to save for a trip to Europe.  We hoped that things had turned around for him.  But something always seemed to go wrong. In the end it was heroin.

He told his Mom he was going down to DC the apply for a job. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for several days, she didn't think too much about it.  He lost his life in Virginia.  His brother at college got the news first in a text message from a friend who somehow knew.  The DC police visited his father at work to tell him.  His father called Terri.  His father made the grim journey to identify James.  Terri waited at home.

Beside herself

Over the years his parents did everything they could to help him stay in school and find himself.  They moved from DC to Baltimore when he got into art school there. Like the other tranquil periods that one didn't last long. 

 They did all they could but nothing seemed to make a difference.

One of the pivotal moments of my parenthood was when I realized, and it took me almost 12 years, that my children were their own people.  Their successes and failures might have had something to do with my efforts, but ultimately it was their actions that made the difference. 








James brain was like a door with no knob.  His parents could peer through the keyhole, but there was no key.

He's been gone 4 years now.  We'll always miss him.  He'll forever be the handsome boy in the  and motorcycle jacket.

He's the son that every mother loves.

Children are a blessing. When they're little we hold them close, as they grow we rejoice in their lives.  It's not right when their lives are cut short.