Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
A Reflection on the Reiners
I’ve been thinking a lot about Rob Reiner and his wife. Somewhere on social media, I read that they had been dreading for years the worst that could happen with their son. And I don’t know this to be true but I’m betting that their vision of the worst that could happen is that their son would take his life, not theirs.
And now they are dead and he is alive and there is no one on earth who can make sense of any of this.
Parenthood is so fraught with fear. Every glorious moment has an underbelly of terrible things that could happen. So that entering parenthood is like joining the Marines where you are embraced by all the Semper Fi, but you become a sitting duck for harm.
Nobody talks about this because it’s important for us to be happy and not scared shitless about whooping cough and second story windows, kidnappers and out of control trains, pills and alcohol, fistfights and estrangement. These worries aren’t front and center all the time. They just lurk, way off in the bushes on the other side of the soccer field where your kids are whooping and hollering and celebrating their great victory.
If you’re the parent of a child with a substance abuse or mental health problem, the lurking inches closer until it follows you around from your house to the car, up and down the aisles of the grocery store, every minute of every day. And though it’s possible to get out from under the worry, it can snap back in place in an instant. It takes tremendous resolve to keep oneself whole, to not be crippled by the possible.
We don’t know much about the Reiners and their son except that their struggle was long and difficult and ended in the most terrible way. There are people you know, people down the street who are living the Reiners’ deep worry and fear right now. Love them up in any way you can.
Semper Fi.
8 Comments on “A Reflection on the Reiners”
Leave a Reply
Recent Comments
 | Ellice on Surrender |
 | Nancy Bauer-King on Surrender |
 | Becky Ross Michael on Prison Town: Part Two |
 | GD on Ah. The Hard-Boiled Truth |
 | Jan Wilberg on Ah. The Hard-Boiled Truth |
Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
So beautifully said and more compassion than I feel. As the sibling of a former addict, I just keeping thinking of the siblings. The poor daughter who discovered the bodies. (No grandparents for her future children.) Their brother has ruined all of their lives forever.
And I bet their lives have been revolving around his problems for a long time. So much lost.
You’re so wise Jan about the lurking fear that comes with parenthood.
Not sure I’m so wise. I am experienced, though.
My drug-addicted son died of an overdose in 2018, when he was in his early forties. Although it was shocking it was not unexpected; I felt both a mother’s grief and a mother’s relief that his pain was finally over. Today, when I thought of my son, I was thankful that he did not stab me in my sleep. The pain and the worry over a drug-addicted child lessens but never ends. Thank you for this post.
I am so sorry about your son. Addiction is such a thief of time and peace. I get it when you say you felt both a mother’s grief and a mother’s relief. Thank you for that insight.
The news was shocking, but you are so correct Jan, it could be anyone.
It truly could be. So terrible to contemplate.