This was a post from July that was too heavy for me to post at the time. The subject of the story passed a few years ago this month. I miss him dearly. The sun shines and the rain falls on both the good and the evil. Live every day like it is your last. One day it will be for all of us. Leave no regrets on the table...
I sit surrounded by my 3 dogs. Amazing Grace, My Pekingese, is sprawled out unphased by the shock and awe of the fireworks outside. Fiona Apple Schmutzie, My Japanese Chin, is confused and jumpy looking to her canine companions for proper behavior during the noisy onslaught. Fabian, My 80 pound Black Lab is a wreck, completely shell shocked by the hell of aerial warfare attacking his senses. We go through this yearly. My wife sleeps soundly in bed. I rough it on the couch cajoling the animals through the night. They give me great comfort. A nights loss of sleep is glad repayment for their unconditional love for me and my family.
I am reflecting on this date today and one's of the not so distant past. I'm starting with the end and finishing with the start. I hope you and your family have a safe holiday and you realize the precious gift of life that is handed to you each morning. Handle with care. Of course I will relate my story to addictions. Mine were primarily alcohol and drugs. They also included porn, money, work, power, prestige, stuff, objects, more work and all of the 7 deadly sins. Maybe you can relate to my story. I was into me, my and mine. Reality, friends and family had to fit into the "me" agenda or were dismissed or ignored.
On July 3rd, 2007 I was "dry" but on the herbal recovery plan. Squeaky and I were enjoying the fireworks display from our driveway. My cell rang. It was a good friend of mine who was really struggling with recovery. He was loaded on the works and insisting he was going to shoot his neighbor if any fireworks landed in his yard. I told him that was a silly thing to go to jail for and being the Fourth of July weekend made the odds of a landing pretty high. We were close and he just needed to vent. He did. First on me. Then on Squeaky. He had a heart of gold and an insatiable thirst for vodka. He unloaded on us but there were no reports of anyone unloading on a neighbor due to fireworks in the paper the next morning.
He refused to go to recovery meetings or return to rehab. He could "handle it on his own." Addiction gives the addict that same line of crap daily, endlessly. I called. He picked up the phone less and less. I stopped over. He didn't answer the door. We drunks love to isolate. He drifted farther into darkness until he drifted into eternity September of that year. He refused help from many. His solution to ease his misery was to buy several gallons of vodka and bug spray. He had pets including a cat I had given him named Louie.
The booze was to feed his master. The bug spray to kill the fleas that had infested his home. He did not die from alcohol poisoning. Day after day he was spraying himself with the bug spray to keep the fleas off. Finally enough of it soaked through his skin, into his blood stream and it shut his system down. He didn't feel a thing. He did not commit suicide. He committed insecticide. I loved him like a brother.
He joined me for a job I had installing inflatable Sponge Bob's on Burger King roofs throughout the south in the months before his passing. We had a great time navigating the mountains of Kentucky and Tennessee, into the small towns of Indiana and Southern Illinois. The disease was too big for him and the vice like grip of alcoholism too powerful for him to shake. It's too strong for anyone to shake alone. He was sober on that trip. I'll never forget the first night we stayed in the motel and he dropped his drawers to reveal leopard bikini underwear. He was damn near fifty and a lady killer. I laughed so hard I nearly got us thrown out of the place.
There are lots of success stories in recovery. There are as many or more stories of those who don't make it to the other side and back to reality. This cat had a heart of gold and would give you the shirt off his back and the skin of his teeth. Addiction doesn't care if you're a sinner or a saint. I miss him. I think of him every time I hear a Zep tune. There are times I wish I could have done MORE to help. I couldn't.
The only person who can get an addict sober is the addict. We can't do it alone. That is for sure. You can love. You can beg. You can cry and plea for us to stop. The sad reality is that only about 15% of addicts find any long term sobriety. Of those only about 5% find permanent sobriety. The odds are lousy. The rewards are great. I love the day to day concept. Today I am sober. It's cool. Tomorrow I'll try again. My buddy is up with Bonzo and Moony. He is at peace and sees fireworks in the clouds everynight.....I love you Twister...
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