Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction

by David Sheff

I also know that parents have discretionary recall, blocking out everything that contradicts our carefully edited recollections — an understandable attempt to dodge blame. Conversely, children often fixate on the indelibly painful memories, because they have made stronger impressions.

I have a daughter who reminds me too much of what I used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function.

“we are made of dreams and bones.”

We visit Train Town in nearby Sonoma, where Nic conducts a steam locomotive past miniature barns and windmills. We travel to Yosemite National Park — in spring, with wildflowers abloom, we hike to the waterfalls; in wintertime, we play in the snow in the valley watched over by Half Dome — and the Monterey Bay Aquarium, where Nic is mesmerized by fluorescent jellies and circling sharks. There are puppet shows and board games and singing along with the bashing of a tambourine. Wearing a kimono and flannel pajama bottoms and holding a plastic guitar, Nic sings at the top of his lungs:

His eyes are thoughtful and the bronze sometimes melts into greenness, alive like the sea.

I don’t have to tell you that he is an exceptional child. He is resourceful, sensitive, expressive, and highly intelligent.

We say “everything” to each other. It is our way of saying I love you, I will miss you so much, I am sorry — the jumble of feelings when he comes and goes.

She is vivacious, handsome, gentle, and imposing. None of Nancy and Don’s children lives farther than San Francisco, and on any given afternoon it’s not uncommon to find one or more or all of them sitting at the kitchen table in front of cups of reheated coffee and a plate of cookies, chatting with their mother. The weekly Wednesday night dinners are raucous and memorable evenings with Nancy and Don and their three children and their families, plus occasional guests and always a revolving pack of our various unmannered dogs, which hog the best couches and steal unguarded food off the dining table.

“Wherever you be, wherever you may, seek the truth, strive for the beautiful, achieve the good.”

Parents can only be as happy as their unhappiest child, according to an old saw. I’m afraid it’s true.

“My happiness is a golden poem.”

We have a close telephone relationship.

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”