No matter how many times I hear about someone I know dying from the disease of addiction, it still feels like a punch in the gut, then as if the heaviest, darkest storm cloud has descended and is following my every move.
I found out this morning that a woman with whom I’d been inseparable for a time in early recovery had died…as a direct result of her addiction.
I remember her as being friendly, outspoken, tons of fun, and unable to stop the slow suicide that comes in a bottle, or a baggie, or… whatever.
Back when we hung out, she carrried around with her a 64 oz.”polar pop”- EVERYWHERE, including meetings. At some point, I can’t remember when, exactly, I discovered that there was much more than Pepsi in there.
Then a few years later I discovered that my friend was struggling to put together a few days sober. I made sure she knew that I was there for her.
When a newcomer at the Women’s meeting we both attended mentioned that this same friend of mine was Sponsoring her, I asked her how long her Sponsor had been sober and she said “a couple of years.” The truth was, it hadn’t been a week. My friend was so much like every other addict… We’re so “smart” that we outsmart the part of us that wants to LIVE. I prayed that she would find a Higher Power that could remove the obsession.
My friend could recite the Steps, Traditions, and How it Works from memory. She knew how to welcome the newcomers, and the not-so-new comers. She made people feel “a part of”, and she was generous to a fault.
I’m so sorry that she never won the fight. She really was a fighter, too.
Sometimes one has to die so that others can live. At least that’s what they tell me. I’m so tired of grieving. But it’s the price we pay for loving. So I guess I’ll get used to it. ❤ May we learn from everyone whose path we cross.
