Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Wreckage of the Past...The Beauty of the Moment

Donathen my love,
Tonight, I was shocked. And you know me, I really do not get shocked that often. When you have known people and have been a person with addictions, you get immune to certain events, or at least you try to be.
Well, there was that young girl who was the girlfriend of one of my neighbors, Mike. He was renting the apartment to the right. Remember? I think I told you. And one morning I woke up pretty early  a miracle on it's own) and I heard police radios, and movement right outside the front door. I opened it up to reveal that Mike's apartment had been secured as a possible crime scene.There was crime scene tape up, and detectives,and I found out later that the girl ended up asphyxiating on her own vomit. This guy, Mike-was in trouble to begin with. The two of them were always wasted, always fighting, and were always enmeshed in a whole bunch of drama. Well, she ends up dead and that was horrible and just so sad. She was 23 years old. I know it happens every day to someone's child, or someone's spouse, or someone's love. It's still heartbreaking.
I slipped a letter under his door letting him know that if he ever needed to speak to someone that I was here. I was honest about my own struggles with alcohol. I wrote that I had a good amount of time under my belt and that there is hope when you least expect it. It was a gesture. Simply to say, "I get it." It was all I could do.
Sometimes you just don't realize that for some people , there is not another million chances to get it. In fact, the last chance passed you by, but you didn't think about it. I know you know what I mean. Anyway, I didn't hear from him again. He moved out shortly thereafter. I would occasionally see him downtown but we never spoke. Tonight, I found out from another neighbor that he tried to cross a four lane highway in the beginning of the summer. He was 10 sheets to the wind. Blotto. He died when two cars ran him over. You and I both know that drinking is but a symptom, and the cars that ran him over were just the last straw on the camel's back. For a true alcoholic, alcohol takes no prisoners.  When I learned about Mikes' fate, I gasped. How awful and tragic and commonplace.

You and I both stepped out from the wreckage of our past and we were able to relish in the beauty of the moment. Many moments in fact. How lucky were we? I'll tell you.

Very.


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