Holding Hands

Almost ten years ago, I held my mother's hand as she softly took her last breath. Two years later, I held my father's hand as he faded from consciousness until the doctors made me leave while they unsuccessfully tried to resuscitate him. The following day, my mom's father, my granpop died. Six months later, my brother's brother-in-law died at age 47 of brain cancer.

I was really, really pissed off at God for a while. I couldn't understand why lovely, kind, vibrant people had to be eaten alive by cancer while some dangerous criminal somewhere got to live. Even now, I can hardly bare to think of my brothers' agonized faces as we went through all those losses together.

I still don't understand why all that happens. But I'm not mad at God anymore. I think one of the reasons it took me so long to get to AA is because I just couldn't see how an HP would take care of me, when that HP took so much from me.

Today I found out a mom in my neighborhood is visiting her father in hospice care. He may live about six more weeks. Another family that we're friends with was just told that their mother's stomach cancer is no longer treatable. My "sober sister's" mother's cancer has continued to progress, she is in excruciating pain and will be spending Mother's Day in the hospital. Another sober sister's Uncle died when we were all at a meeting together this Tuesday night. A woman from this morning's meeting is in the hospital and is not expected to make it.

I am grateful that I am sober today so that I can share my experience, strength and hope of terminal illness, loss, grief with some of these people. Maybe that is why I had some of the experiences I've had, to be there for someone and hold their hand. Maybe my HP waited until I was sober to put all these people I can help in my path.