My mother has been on my heart lately, as in bursting into tears when I talk about her, or describe the time the disease of addiction whispered to me when I was handling her pain meds near the end of her life. Why now, nearly 13 years later? Her birthday is in February, and the anniversary of her passing in October. Why now? Is her spirit trying to tell me something from beyond, or am I just missing my mom?
Many years ago, in one workshop or another (John Bradshaw or something similar), we were instructed to write a letter to ourselves, perhaps with a question, and then reply while writing with our non-dominant hand, with the theory it would allow us to access a different part of the brain - the feeling rather than thinking section. I decided to try that with my mom, writing a short letter asking if there is anything she wants me to know. I attempted to use my left hand, but I'll tell you, as I've gotten older, whatever skill I had in that department is long gone! My mother had beautiful handwriting, so it didn't feel right to scribble. Returning to my right hand, the message I got (from myself or the great beyond) is that grieving has no calendar and isn't limited to specific dates or anniversaries. Touche, Mom. Instead of trying to figure it out (which I'm often reminded is not one of the Steps), I'll simply enjoy the feeling of nearness, even if it means crying.
I recently read about something called a "wind phone" - installations around the country where an old rotary dial phone is set up where people can dial their loved ones. The phones aren't connected to anything, and obviously, one isn't actually calling the deceased, but the article described the catharsis of dialing the old number and talking to one's person. Yes, definitely woo-woo, and I intend to do it. I so often get the urge to pick up the phone to call her - why not? (for local people, it is at the Skyline Memorial Cemetery - in other places, look up Wind Phone for an installation near you).
On another note altogether, when newly sober, I struggled with Steps 8 & 9. Not quite, "Ain't it grand, the wind stopped blowing!" but it really did take some years for my part in fractured relationships to become clear. One of those situations was with a woman who'd been a close part of our friend circle - her boyfriend was my boyfriend's best friend, both of them in Portland from the Middle East. Lots of drama I won't go into, ending with me banishing her from our house (oh the hubris). As I made my first go-through of the Steps, I knew she belonged on the list, though couldn't articulate what I needed to make amends for. I decided to get all dolled up and go to where she worked, waltzing in with recovery as my shield to make amends and show her how great I was doing. Fortunately, I ran it by my sponsor, who said a great big "whoa!" and suggested I might want to reach out to see if this woman was interested or willing to see me. So I wrote a letter, no reply, and followed that with an amends letter. Within a few months, I saw her on the street downtown, and in a moment of spiritual inspiration, decided that the best amends I could make was to leave her alone. I've never seen her since, though a few years ago she showed up in a dream - I was genuinely glad to see her and talked with her about the absolute insanity of our past.
Fast forward to this weekend when in reading the local Sunday paper obituaries, I saw that her younger brother has died. I didn't know him, but recognized the names of the two older siblings, each bartenders at clubs we frequented. Seeing her name in print was a definite jolt, and I must admit that one of my first thoughts was to go to the memorial being held at a local event park. Of course, I won't - how weird would it be to show up, not knowing the brother, solely to see her after 45 years? But, the thought was there. I need to acknowledge that my name hasn't changed and I'm not that hard to find, so will settle into the fact that this still isn't a door that needs to be opened.
A door that doesn't need to be opened, and I have been engaged in a bit of morbid reflection on the selfish, self-centered and entitled person I was back then, and how my actions hurt those I cared about. As I've often said, I cannot un-cheat, un-steal, un-lie but I can live in such a way today that I never hurt anyone in the same way again. I'm glad I haven't totally forgotten the pain of those memories.
Sometimes amending relationships means staying away, despite my desire for some sort of closure or connection. Working the Steps isn't always neat and tidy. Sometimes Step work is messy or feels incomplete, though that's usually because I'm trying to repair history from my present vantage point. While I don't believe in a higher power pulling strings or arranging the furniture, I do believe that letting go of the illusion of control allows nature to take its course, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly and sometimes not in any way I might've imagined.
I recently read that the last words of Michelle Obama's mother were, "Wow. This went fast." I shared this with one of my closest friends, and we almost cried in recognition. Wasn't it just last year that we met on your 18th birthday, that we watched the fellas play tennis, danced in the living room? Wasn't it just last week that you drove my mom to family days at treatment, when she asked you, "Do you think she'll make it?" and you said, "Of course she will." Wow. This went fast, and here we are, here I am, 70 years old, with a whole lotta life-on-life's-terms under my belt, and, I'll assume, more on the way until there isn't.
What kind of relationship do you have to your deceased loved ones? How about your relationship to any amends situations that might feel incomplete? How might you experience a sense of closure if you can't see the person, either by their choice, or maybe they've died? At the end of it all, what would you hope your final words to be? As an exercise in treatment, we'd have clients write their own obituary, focusing on accomplishments and regrets. What might yours say?
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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks.