Hard to believe what had to happened to our family, the degeneration of our daughter through alcohol and drugs.
Every waking hour I carried this burden: My daughter is an alcoholic drug abuser. Laura put herself at risk. I dreamt of her as a child, before alcohol claimed her. Anxiety bubbled in me it would not let me rest. I would get out of bed to drink cups of tea, to stare at the television set. I used to be a carefree person, shared happiness in my life. My daughter had changed my being to an older version of myself.
I could not understand why this had happened. I must be doomed, there must be bad luck in the house, in my home. I was tired. I was irrational.
I honed in on Laura’s redundant wedding dress, neatly folded in a box, stashed away, just in case it was ever needed.
I had made this dress. A Vera Wang design, a fitted dress with a round neck, and long slim skirt with a slit in the back. The material was pure crushed silk with silver embroidery swirled over the fabric. To the waist at the back sat a bow made of the same fabric, from that bow layers and layers of pure silk netting formed a trail. It was beautiful, to match the intended bride.
That was the omen – that – dress. I took it our of the box, screwed it in a ball and shoved into the bin.
I sat back and waited for good luck to return, to bring my daughter back to me.