by clicking the arrows at the side of the page, or by using the toolbar.
by clicking anywhere on the page.
by dragging the page around when zoomed in.
by clicking anywhere on the page when zoomed in.
web sites or send emails by clicking on hyperlinks.
Email this page to a friend
Search this issue
Index - jump to page or section
Archive - view past issues
Grapevine : October 2011
Fortunately, shortly after that, I landed once again in jail. That stay lasted just under two months---and with the help of AA and my spiritual practices, it will be my last visit to a concrete cell. I've been sober now since the night I was arrested, just about a year ago. The pain of losing Ann remains beyond words. But, though the thought has crossed my mind more than once, I haven't found it neces- sary to drink over the grief and de- pression. I've come to believe that thoughts, feelings, and even crav- ings are like clouds in the sky: no more substantial (unless I choose to act on them), some darker than others, and coming and going seem- ingly of their own accord. And like everything else, these, too, pass over the horizon. There are times, I'll admit, when the hurt is almost overwhelming. But AA and meditation have taught me to be grateful---for Ann's chance to be together with our daughter and grandchildren; for my friends in the Fellowship when I need to talk, even aimlessly, about what I'm feel- ing; for the opportunities, when they arise, to use my experience to offer what help I can to others; and for the 27 years of life and love I shared with my partner, best friend, wife. Those words on the wall? "This MY heart was broken last night. Visiting a little too long outside before finding a seat at my home group, I rushed inside. I was glad to see one fel- low member there that I had missed seeing lately, and it was obvious that he was hurting. I automat- ically took my purse o the chair beside me and set it on the floor, then patted the seat to indicate that he could come sit byme.Assoonashesat down, I knew---whiskey. Whiskey had entered our meeting with my friend. Only the previous meet- ing, I had shared that the surefire way that I could experience overwhelming, sincere gratitude was to remember how I felt my last day drinking. My friend held my hand, not wanting to let go as if his life depended on it. We share the common bond of a desperately hopeless disease. We realized we had worked in the same bar 20 years earlier. is summer he watched as I struggled to attend meet- ings without a voice as our group loved me through cancer and surgery. He told me he was amazed that I was doing it sober as he had had the same cancer and handled it the opposite way. So our bond was strong. It wasn't just THE SWEET SMELL OF WHISKEY 20 October 2011