Remnants

I am surrounded by a birth and an impending death, this week. No, not the cats' reactions to the weather; a real birth, and a death by alcoholism. The disease is a particularly miserable way to live, and ends in an even more horrible death. I thank the Presence that I was brought to this house, to witness this way of dying. It's a good lesson for me, and an example for the future.

The birth is a happy one, as most births tend to be. I wrote a post once about Mary, the mother goddess of a woman, who was my helper during my mother's last 11 years. Mary is now a grandmother, again, to Noah, a 5 lb. 10 oz. tiny package of a boy.

And before I wax philosophical on the conjunction of these two events, I remind myself that the same thing is happening the world over.

I suppose the shocker about the death is the relatively young age of the person. She is 45, and I am older than she is by 4 years. As I grow older, I am surrounded more and more by those passing. It seems insidious. What was once uncommon in my life, has become common. It is a reminder that, with each passing day, I come closer and closer to the door.

It's a good thing my medications are working, that I am taking them, and it is not the tail end of winter. Soon, nothing will be left but the remnants of her life...her animals, and a portrait painted in a much happier day. The animals are provided for, and the portrait will go into storage.

I would rather contemplate Noah. The sun will be cold, and brilliant today, as he faces the second day of life. His mother and father are young and happy and in love. It's a good beginning.

I wish I could write clearly about all that has happened to me in the past 2 months, but, as my sponsor says, "...restraint of tongue and pen..." must govern my posts right now. That's a quote from the Big Book called Alcoholics Anonymous, and I hold on to my sobriety with the grip of a vice.

It is all I can do to ensure my continued health and mental wellness.

What will I leave behind?

So, just for today, I hold my friends a bit closer, and the sunshine, and the crisp force of the grass.