Originally written: 11/07/2015
I remember many of the events of that time of my life clearly. Other events are just a blur. It had been coming for a while but no one expected it to happen that quickly.
The event leading up to that day were ordered in the way they were for a reason. I know that today and can see some of those reasons from the perspective two years brings. Other may become apparent with more time. Others I may only know when I am reunited with my mother on the other side.
My relationship with my mother had been close for many years. At that time it was strained because I made the wrong decision, four months prior; when my step-father Bob was moved to hospice and I was told that I could not come to see him before he passed. I had dealt with that grief in the only way I then knew how, I used, just as I had when I lost my Dad, Uncle Ted, Nanny (my great-grandmother) and my grandmother. At that time, she broke off communication with me, as did most of my family; stating that she could not stand to see me killing myself any longer, through my addiction. When my step father did pass 9 days later, I had to learn it from Facebook. That is not to point any fingers. Those were the consequences of my actions. My family needed to keep themselves safe.
Mom had had trouble breathing on Sunday, November 3. On the advice of her sister, my Aunt Elaine, she went to the hospital. She was admitted that night. Aunt Elaine called me to let know. I was 24 days clean that day and living at Stepping Stones Sober Living Residences. They took me in when I had become homeless through my inability and unwillingness to stay clean. I am eternally grateful to Manny Mendez and Laura Lee Chapman for saving my life through that action.
The next day I received a phone call from my brother Tom. He asked how I was doing with my recovery before sharing the news that the doctors could not help Mom and he had signed the papers for her to be moved to hospice. By that time, I had learned to share my emotions instead of drowning them or deadening them. I shared on Facebook and I shared at meetings. At the suggestion of my sponsor, I shared with anyone who would listen.
The next day my Aunt Diane flew to South Carolina to be with my mother and I was able to speak to Mom for the first time in 4 months. Our conversation was simply me telling her “Mom, I love you.” I heard the words that I longed to hear. Mom gasped out, “Ray, I love you too.” That was the biggest gift I could have received from her, at that moment. No other words needed to be said.
The next day I continued to share about my feelings and what was happening and people reached out. Without the friends I had made through the Fellowship of NA, I do not know what would have happened. People cared and people shared how they made it through times like that.
Thursday morning, I went to my usual meeting, Morning Miracles, at 7am and then went to the library, to continue my job search. I remember sitting on the wall outside the library waiting for it to open to use their computers. I was smoking a cigarette when my phone rang at 8:32. The caller ID said that it was my cousin Connie and my heart sank. I knew the purpose of the call before she uttered the words that I had been dreading, that my mother had passed.
I did not know what to do. I had 28 days clean. I knew what my disease wanted me to do. I also knew what would allow me to survive that day and the coming days. I could get on the bus and go get what I wanted or I could use the phone and choose to live. I chose to text my sponsor with the news and his response was “get to a meeting.” He was out of the country on a business trip and unavailable but he knew that the fellowship was there even if an individual member was not. I reached out to another friend, Lisa, who I had known for several years. She and I had come into the rooms together within a week of each other. Lisa told me she would be there right away. She knew what I was going through since she had previously lost her mother. I went inside the library to wait and to log on to the computers. I shared what had happened and people immediately began to reach out. During that day and the ones following, 74 people shared their love through comments, etc. Two-thirds of them I had met through the Fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous.
Lisa picked me up and took me and her dog, Winnie, to the dog park. At the park, she allowed me to sit and process some of the emotions I was feeling while letting me know that she was there for me. Afterwards, she took me to the noon meeting, appropriately named “You Are Not Alone.” At the meeting, some of the people had heard. They immediately greeted me with a hug or a kiss. At the meeting, I was allowed to share first, after the readings were finished. I do not recall what I shared. I know that I shared what had happened and then I broke down and bawled, the first tears I had shed in several years. I felt weak and ashamed. Another friend, who had made sure I did not sit alone, held me throughout the meeting, allowing me to cry on her shoulder. At one point she asked if I wanted to go outside to collect myself. I told her that I could not; for I knew that if I walked out that door I would keep walking seeking other means to deal with those emotions. That friend had about 4 years clean at that point and surprised me by telling me that she was proud of me and was thankful for teaching her how we deal with loss in NA. I do not know about that. I know that at that moment, NA came to mean for me “Not Alone.”
You often hear a story in the rooms about a sick penguin. When a penguin gets sick on an ice flow, if it falls over, it will die. The other penguins will crowd around it and not let it fall. They will press up against it and hold it up until it gets better and can again stand on its own. During the following days and weeks, the family that I had made in NA treated me like that penguin and did not let me fall. They were there the next day when I had to sign the consent to allow my mother to be cremated. They were there for me when I had to travel to the funeral in New Jersey. I was not alone and I made it through those tough times.
One of the biggest gifts of that time, I was able to be present, to experience the emotions, of carrying my mother’s urn during the funeral procession and to graveside. Although it hurt, I carried the remains of the woman who had given me the gift of this wonderful life which I had neglected for so many years. It was the completion of the circle of her earthly life since she carried me when I was an infant.
Today I am a grateful member of Narcotics Anonymous. I remember my mother years ago urging me to get help and go to meetings. At that time, I had not accepted the fact that I was an addict and needed meetings, the fellowship and the program to survive. For me today, NA embodies “Ohana.” As the movie stated, “Ohana means family. It means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”
I thank HP, my higher power, that this penguin does not have to fall again. I am grateful for those who were there for me then and continue to be here for me now. I know through the many gifts HP is giving me, we never have to use again and never have to be alone.
Addendum – November 7, 2020.
When I wrote this 5 years ago, I had developed a resentment towards God and even doubted He existed, basically because of all that I had gone through and had to endure. Rereading this today, it sounds like a track for NA. While it is so important that people know that help and support is out there, I can see Jesus’s fingerprints all over the story. He had promised never to leave me nor forsake me. He was faithful, even if I was not. He loves me even when I could not love myself.
Thank you God.
Ray of Sonshine 