Posted by: innerpilgrimage | October 14, 2012

I Always Thought That I’d See You Again

“Been walking my mind to an easy time,
My back turned towards the sun
Lord knows when the cold wind blows
It’ll turn your head around
Well, there’s hours of time on the telephone line
To talk about things to come
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground.” — James Taylor, “Fire and Rain”

On Friday morning, the person in fellowship who helped me see my SLAA Withdrawal Bottom Lines died unexpectedly. I learned he died this morning when I was reading my emails at breakfast, a small and healthy breakfast to celebrate three years of abstinence. In a restaurant, I started crying. I stopped and started, vacillating from shock to grief. After breakfast, I returned an email to the person who had informed me and many others it had  happened.

I am confused, upset, agitated. I vacillate from overwrought and crying to dazed and in shock. And I think on that I saw him Wednesday. I saw him, and he listened to me and he reflected my bottom lines back to me. I telephoned him Thursday night about meeting. He was in the E.R., and it didn’t seem serious. Just dehydration. Friday at noon, I left a message on his cell phone to call me if he needed anything–groceries, someone to talk to, anything for my friend in fellowship. He was going to help me finally reach Step Twelve, not as a sponsor but as a friend in recovery.

Real life happened this weekend.

And I am still eating sanely, thanks to the three years of fellowship from people just like him. 159.8 lbs., 100+ lbs. less than my first day of abstinence in 2009, right at the weight the OA program and recovery set me at, so I could finally begin the real recovery work of the addiction which hid under the cross-addiction of food.

I miss you, M—. We all will, and I will do my best to carry your experience, strength, and hope forward to those who still suffer. You are the fellowship, and you will always be in my heart and mind.



  1. […] My eulogy to him here . . . well, looking at that date . . . I knew him for two years. In two years he profoundly affected my life and how I worked my program. And I see that I didn’t . . . shit, I didn’t ever finish mourning that loss. I know I can place when I started turning off toward relapse with that week when my program mentor died. I cried so hard for him, for me, for the loss of someone who lived the principles of program. […]

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