Loss, Grief and Sobriety. A Powerful Combination.

January 26, 2023. That's the day my dad passed away. Twenty-eight days ago. Almost a month already. Jeesh. It's hard to believe. Even though we knew it was coming, it seems you can never fully prepare for the death of a loved one. Let alone a parent. My dad suffered from Alzheimers. He had been progressing further and further into the depths of this illness for nearly seven years. But it wasn't until he got sick with covid in August of 2021 that his health really began to decline. You see, up until then, my dad could still get around and mostly care for himself. I say that loosely because he still needed quite a bit of assistance, but not like he did after covid. To make a long story short, my dad was hospitalized twice while sick. I was the only one of my entire local family that wasn't sick, so the hospital kindly allowed me to stay with him. My dad's condition would not have understood, nor navigated, this week-long stay in the hospital by himself. And while it was questionable if he really even knew who I was at this point, what he did know was that he saw my face... a lot! And it was a face he could trust. And that alone brought him comfort. 

Once he was released from the hospital, he was sent directly to a memory care facility for rehab. But really, it was just the beginning of his long-term care journey. My dad stayed in two different long-term care facilities for almost a year and a half. In April 2022, we moved him home. My mom, younger sister and I became his primary caregivers. By the time he came home he was on hospice care, but even then, the true day to day are on the caregivers. My dads care was now on us. And I... I was still drinking almost every night. WTF. Seriously? My poor father is beginning his final walk home (spiritually speaking), and I'm showing up every day to help him. Hungover. Cloudy. Certainly NOT my best self. I knew this was not how I wanted to spend whatever time I had left with my dad. You see, years ago, in 2016, I lost my dog, Bodhi. Bodhi was the best chocolate lab anyone could ever ask for. I lost him suddenly. And I will never forget... the night before he died, I was drinking. He wasn't feeling well, and I was getting drunk. By myself. I remember him not wanting to come to bed. So I grabbed his leashed and tried to pull him to bed. He refused. I removed the leash and said, "you don't wanna come, fine. Sleep out here." And I went to bed. The next morning my dog was very sick. I took him to the vet and learned that he had a tumor in his belly that was bleeding out. We could have performed surgery to stop the bleeding, but the cancer would still be there. He was twelve years old and his prognosis (if we did surgery) was less than three months. Most of which would be in a very difficult recovery. I wasn't there for my dog, my very best friend. The only creature who faithfully, and happily, stayed by my side. And I wasn't fucking there for him. I will never forget, laying on the floor at the vets office, his head in my hands, telling hims how much I loved him and how sorry I was. That day, the vet ended his suffering. I have never forgiven myself for this. (I've also never told anyone this either, until now). I knew right then and there, on the cold floor of the vet's office, with my dead dog's head in my hands, that I would never let anyone down like that again. But fast forward to 2022, and here I was. Letting my dad down. Letting my mom down. So on Saturday, September 24, 2022, I had my last drink. It wasn't a big to-do. Just a  simple glass of wine with my mom. But that was it. On Sunday, the 25th I quietly and privately decided to put down the booze. At the time, I wasn't sure if it would be forever, that was (and still is) a bit too much to think about. But I knew I had to put it down for now. For today. And every day since, I have chosen to simply put down the booze. For now. For today. 

My father passed away on Thursday, January 26 2023. I was 122 days sober. And you know what? I was so happy that I had made that choice four months earlier. The last few months of my dads life, I was there for him, every day in every way. You see, my dads Alzheimer had become quite advanced by this point. He had stopped walking and was bed-bound. His ability to talk become more challenging, almost to the point of gibberish. He couldn't feed himself. Nor could he drink from a glass of water. His every need was in our hands. And my hands were completely open and ready to serve him. But as I become more and more present, my dad was drifting farther and farther away.

The thing about Alzheimers is that you begin to grieve the loss of your loved one before they are actually gone. My family and I have become very familiar with grief and well-acquainted with loss. And when the time came for my dad to take his final breath, and death walked beside us, we were all truly able to comfort him. To support him. To help him cross over. I don't know if I could have done all that I did had I still been drinking. My dad, like my beloved Bodhi, deserved me. Deserved my presence and my best. Shoot, I  deserved it, too. So I prayed, a lot, for the help and power to stay sober... just for today. 

In the end, my dad is gone. My heart is broken. My life is forever changed. But I got to, and get to, feel and experience it all with absolute clarity. So you see, through loss and grief I have learned the power of sobriety. And for that, I couldn't be more grateful. 

Today I am 150 days clear & sober. 

xo