A fence, duct tape, and endless love.

By April Babcock

This morning, I found myself standing at my fence again — the same white fence that still carries the mark of my son’s relapse. 

The last time Austen was home, he blacked out and broke it. It wasn’t a good moment, but it was real. It was him.

Every so often, I go out with white duct tape and patch that fence back together. 

Today, as I taped the pieces, I whispered over and over: “I love you, Austen. I love you, Austen. I will never be mad at you.”

That broken fence has become a reminder that love is stronger than anger, stronger than regret, stronger even than death. 

It reminds me that even in the hardest memories, our children are with us, and our love for them will never end.

On October 18, when we gather in Washington, D.C., with banners full of faces and hearts full of memories, we will bring both the pain and the love that bind us together. 

We will stand for our children, and for each other.

From my heart to yours, never forget: you are not alone, and your love for your child is indestructible.