Free to fly

When I’d been sober about five years, my wife of 50 years was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. After the third time I had to call the police to find my wife when she wandered off, her doctor suggested that I needed to start attending a support group. I had begun to feel frantic, worried that my decades of alcoholic behavior were somehow to blame for my wife’s condition. I feared I would never be able to make amends. Members of my support group, seeing my despair, said I should seek psychiatric help.