When my husband was three years old, he had a blankie—a tattered scrap of multicolored fabric he carried with him everywhere he went.

His parents had recently divorced and his mother noticed that whenever he was upset or sad, he sought out the blankie. For a while, she figured this was all fine and normal, but it got to the point where he couldn’t function without it.

My mother-in-law saw where this was going: her little boy, whose father had severe addiction issues, was using his blankie to mask the complicated feelings he had about the massive upheaval in his world. So she made a deal with him: Anytime you feel like you need blankie, you come get me instead.

At the time, she was a single mother with two other children, all under the age of five. But for months, she made her middle son​​—my husband—her project. Every time he was feeling sad or upset and longing for blankie, she dropped whatever she was doing and gave him her undivided attention. Sometimes that looked like holding or sitting with him until he got to the other side of whatever emotion was plaguing him. Other times, they would play a game together or sit and talk about what he was feeling.

Eventually he stopped needing the blankie, but he always had his mother.

I’ve heard this story many times in the twenty-four years my husband and I have been together. When my mother-in-law recounted it to me yesterday she said, “I was twenty five years old, raising three kids by myself. I had no idea if I was doing the right thing. But I knew that I couldn’t stand by and watch my babies fall into addiction like so many members of their family. I had to try something different.”

It is often said in the sober community that the opposite of addiction is connection. And that is what my mother-in-law gave to her young son, the little boy who would grow into the best person I know. I will always be grateful to her for what we call “the blankie year.” Never underestimate the power of connection.