When I got home from school one day, my mom was crying. I think I was only eleven or twelve at the time.

She told my sister and me to sit down, saying that she had something she needed to tell us, about Grandma.

Some of the first words out of her mouth were, “Your grandmother has to go on a little trip.”

Grandmother + Mom Crying + “little trip” = death.

This was the immediate thought I had as a response to what my mother just told us. Grandma wasn’t really dead, though, and my mom continued.

“She has a problem she needs help with.” I can’t remember exactly what my mom said, but it all pretty much watered down to the little quote.

My grandmother had a drinking problem. I was actually relieved after hearing that news. My mom seemed to be making too big of a deal about it at the time. I guess I can see how she would feel, seeing her mother having such “hard difficulties”.

I was so young at the time that I still had the thought in my head that drinking alcohol was like breaking a huge law.