Still Here in 2017

Days sober: 81

Since my husband returned from rehab four weeks ago, 2 young men he was in with have died from drug overdoses. My heart is heavy thinking of the ones that have left us too early, their deaths leaving behind them a trail of sorrow; parents left childless, children left without a mother or father. A despairing and desolate finale. My husband’s words: “just like that, poof, gone.” 

This week I spoke with one of my sister in laws about my husband’s recovery. It is the first time since he has been out that we spoke. She asked me how we were doing, what life is like. In the past with family, there has been a glossing over of his addiction. An optimistic fabrication of the truth, a debasement of reality.  Everything inside me has changed. I detest this glossing over. I told her, my words softly thudding, we could have lost him, we almost lost him. Prison would have been a good ending. 

Thud.

Death was a plausible ending.

Boom. 

Truth. 

My husband is still here. 

Hope echoes into the universe.  Reverberates, cycles back. 

Today he is here.

We were in bed talking when he found out about the last of these two overdoses in a text message from a friend. The words spilled from his melancholy lips as he recalled the 24 year old boy. While listening to his stories,  I couldn’t stop looking at my husband. I found myself studying his features, his face, the way the light cast a shadow over his green eyes, the black stubble forming on his chin, the rise and fall of his chest. His breath, his life, fragile, resilient, fleeting. I studied him, intent on committing his face to my memory forever. To burn his image in my minds eye… just in case…you know? In case he is not here tomorrow. As if he may…

just…

poof…

disappear

Gone

Here…

then gone

Poof

The new year is upon us. There is so much to be said about 2016. It is the year that many souls left us. The year of the election. The year Trump won. 

2016. It is the year I met the demon. The year I detached and then found my way back.  The year I discovered self love. The year my husband surrendered. The year he stood up. The year he got sober. The year I spoke the truth. The year I reunited with loved ones. The year I started writing. The year we started fighting. The year I let go. The year my husband did not leave this earth. The year that he stayed. The year he chose life.  

In 2016 I scribbled love notes on dissolving paper. I prepared to hand them over to the executioner. In 2017, the love notes will be tattooed on my arm, beating heart worn on a sleeve. 

Permanent, not dissolving.  

Steadfast, not fleeting.

Mine, not the executioner’s. 

My muse not lost. 

In 2016, down to my knees, journey inward. From knees, rise to feet, on two legs, I am walking into 2017. Fighting. Tearing his eulogy to shreds. Because…otherwise…

just…

poof…

disappear

Gone

Here…

then gone

Poof

Farewell 2016, thank you for my husband’s life. Hello 2017. We come in light, we come in strength, we come from within, we radiate out. Never, never, never forgetting what has been gained. Always, always, always fighting for what can be lost. Rising up and facing the executioner, with resistance and in love.  

In my palm is a eulogy, shredded, not gone

escaping my lips is a love song

Serenading the executioner

-without finale 

on my knees, and from above

2016 here we

go

go

go

gone

2017 here we come 

WE MUST CARRY ON.

Happy New Year everyone 

-Marahu 

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15 thoughts on “Still Here in 2017

  1. I know you have heard this a 100x from 100 people, but you are now hearing it from someone who means it, if there is anything I can do to help you two all you have to do is ask. I am reachable 247/365 If you e-mail me and you have not heard back from me in over 30 min I want you to send me a txt to let me know to get on line. 1-731-418-9211 I live alone and wake easy. Would you like another women to talk with ? I can make that happen if you say I can. Please keep me updated.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It sounds like your year has been a similar emotional rollercoaster to mine. 81 days = 81 miracles. 81 times of choosing sobriety NO. MATTER. WHAT.
    It does get easier, or perhaps we just develop new muscle memories? I know that as long as recovery remains the foremost goal of each day (first things first), and we refuse to allow other things to be prioritized above it, we will live another day. Blessings to you and yours in 2017!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Beautiful words, and so full of strength. Refusing the executioner is a worthy goal for 2017. So glad you (and your husband) are here and recovering. So many of my son’s friends never made it to 24. The last died just this last year, probably unintentionally, also from opioids mixed with alcohol.

    You are not alone. ; ) We are all fighting this battle, if not personally, then with a husband, wife, mother, daughter, son, friend. Hang in there!

    xoxo

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you so much. It’s so sad how many we are losing to this epidemic. And children too… You have to fight this beast with all that you’ve got, and find support in family and community. All the best to you and your family in 2017. ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

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