This is the End My Friend...J. Morrison...No It's Not. It is Just The Beginning

There is a very simple and central theme in recovery. Live today, the yesterdays are gone and tomorrow's not here yet. Matthew 6:34 says: "Be not anxious about tomorrow...sufficient for the day is it's own trouble." That is a paraphrase. The point is that we have only now, the moment we are in. God grants us today after today until he decides when the next today won't come. When someone dies who is old or sick it hurts but we have prepared ourselves for the loss. When someone young, vibrant and filled with life is taken, it sucks the air right out of you.

I wrote the chapter "Mom I Love You, Sister I love you, and You Love Me!" when I returned home from an amazingly, life changing day at my family's Christmas gathering last night. As I finished the posting and was checking into my Facebook account, a friend messaged me saying a mutual friend had died on Christmas morning. The elation of the day I savored with my family was replaced by sadness, emptiness and shock at the unexpected news.

My friend Debbie was very close to my age. We had much in common and I loved her. We never dated. She was friends with my wife and was a true girlfriend. That is a friend who just happened to be a girl. I called her Debbie Snack Cake because she was so tiny and so, so sweet. Height wise she came up to the middle of my chest, but she had giant written all over her.

She was going through the difficulties of coping with the death of her mother while my dad was deteriorating and physically moving toward the end himself. We shared our pain and funny stories about our parents and bonded over the agony of seeing them slip away. I attended her mother's memorial service and she was there at my dad's. We could just look at each other and see the pain and emotional exhaustion in each others eyes. Words did not have to be spoken.

Like me, she was slightly neurotic and a bit OCD but in a cute, lovable way. If she was a puppy, there is no doubt that she would be the one that you couldn't resist and wanted to take home that day. Quiet in nature she spoke openly rarely, but when she did it was always something you were glad you had a chance to hear. I am glad that I hugged her when I saw her a few days before the holiday. She was smiling ear to ear and hugged me tight, not a slap on the back but a "good ta see ya" hug.

I burnt lots of Doors music for her. She loved Jim Morrison, like I love Lennon and Dylan. Her license plate even read LA WMAN. Her favorite song by them was "The End." It is a haunting and deeply philosophical poem set to music. She bragged she had every version ever made. I believed her.

The thing I loved most about her was that she was always there to help a friend in need. She would put her life on hold to lift up complete strangers. She poured her heart out like liquid gold, holding nothing back for her own reserves. Even when she was crying inside she would smile and show the outside world that life is for living. I'll never know how God got such big balls on such a tiny person.

The joy I had returning from my sister's house was quickly replaced by shock and tear soaked reflection. I do have to disagree with Mr. Morrison that "This is the End." I believe death is just the turning of a page in a new chapter of existence called paradise. I live my life today trying to keep my relationships on solid ground. I understand all of us may only have today. Maybe our kids, or parents, or neighbors won't be there for the apology or clearing of the air we are planning for another day.

Never in a million years would I believe that the deep, love filled hug we shared a few days ago would be our last. It confirms even more that life is too short for petty disagreements and that long held grudges must be cast aside. I don't want the guilt of "I shoulda". When I walk out the door, leaving behind a friend or loved one, I try to do so on a good note or just not on a bad one. I do not let the sun go down on my anger. I know the sun shines and the rain falls on the good and the evil.

I have talked about Little Debbie Snack Cake in the past tense in this chapter. She may not be here to see, but she is in my heart. She taught me a lot in life and has shown me how fragile and short it can be. I will see her again in paradise, probably walking with her mom and Jim Morrison and she will hug me firmly as if to say "I love you and you're going to love this place!" Snack Cake I love you! See ya whenever.