The impetus for my initial idea for this
week's column was the experience of a colleague
of mine at Hazelden who found himself suddenly
facing end-of-life issues, even though it turns
out he was in perfectly good health. But that
story of insight and inspiration will have to
wait; a real tragedy in my hometown grabs this
space for now.
Debbie Porterfield, 42, died when she drove
her car into a pond in the suburbs of the Twin
Cities. She had just left a restaurant,
apparently after drinking too much. Her husband,
Kent Porterfield, wasn't surprised. "I think
we've all known it would end with something like
this," he told reporter Mary Divine of the St.
Paul Pioneer Press. "It was going to happen
sooner or later. I just thank God she didn't
take someone else's life along with her own."
She easily could have over the years.
Divine's article chronicled her repeated legal
problems, including drunken driving, all caused
by her alcoholism. Despite having a 6-year-old
son, a loving and patient husband and multiple
treatments, Porterfield never was able to
sustain her sobriety.
An autopsy report is pending. Drowning or
traumatic injury probably killed her. But just
as the case is with thousands of other deaths
each year in America, what won't be spelled out
on her death certificate is the real cause:
chronic alcoholism.
What is most remarkable about the story is
that her family continued to hold on and love
her despite her long spiral downward and the
pain it caused them all.
"People may wonder why (our son) and I didn't
leave her," Kent said. "There's always the hope
things will get better. And there's an
appreciation for the positives that she brought
to our lives and the knowledge she would be dead
within months if we were to leave."
Always hope. The girder that supports
families who don't know what to do or have done
their best against the odds to give people they
care for more chances for redemption. Hope is
never an excuse to allow alcoholics to run riot
in the lives of those who love them. Setting and
maintaining boundaries for them to take care of
themselves is vital, no matter the outcome. But
for family members who always bear the brunt of
the alcoholic's actions, hope is the lifeline
allowing them to stay connected to a person they
love with an illness they hate. With hope,
giving up is never an option.
Reading Kent Porterfield's experiences with
his wife, I got the sense that he did everything
possible to help her find recovery. From putting
her into treatment to taking away her credit
cards, he did not enable her to avoid the
consequences of her drinking. He also made sure
to take care of their son. "I told him that she
loves us, but she was not the same mom when she
drinks. I often told him that it wasn't our
fault, and there wasn't anything we could do to
stop her from drinking. ... I spent so much time
trying to protect him. It became my mission in
life to protect my son."
Those are hardly the actions of a man who has
no hope. And my hope is that Debbie
Porterfield's death and her husband's life are
not the end of the story.
William Moyers is the vice president of
foundation relations for the Hazelden Foundation
and the author of "Broken," his best-selling
memoirs, and "A New Day, A New Life." Please
send your questions to William Moyers at
wmoyers@hazelden.org. To find out more about
William Moyers and read his past columns, visit
the Creators Syndicate Web page at
www.creators.com.
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