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.
Death was a plausible ending.
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…
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…
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
on my knees, and from above
2016 here we
2017 here we come
WE MUST CARRY ON.
Happy New Year everyone