The material presented
here is not Al-Anon Conference Approved Literature. It is a method
to exchange
information, ideas, feelings, problems and solutions on a personal
level.
I've decided to make myself useful today, even though the Daytona 500 is on in the background.
I am in the process of packing my AH's belongings away - I don't know where they will go, or when, but I feel I need to put them somewhere away from me for the time being.
So I'm putting laundry away, including some of his items that were left here when he moved away from me late last fall. Putting them into his dresser so it can just be wrapped up and moved away.
Inside the top drawer, I saw a small velvet bag that contains a small baggie of ashes.
In 2007, his dad - my FIL - passed away unexpectedly. I loved his dad so much - he was so funny and kind and smart. He was the kind of guy that was gruff and tough on the outside, but soft marshmallow goo on the inside. He reminds me a lot of my own qualifier dad, who died two years later, to the day, that my FIL did.
My FIL was also in recovery. He would take my AH to AA meetings for years, and tell him "remember if you ever need a place to go, these people will take care of you and will always be here for you."
I gently held the bag of ashes in my hands and started crying as I spoke to him.
"Dad - I'm so sorry that this disease is claiming your son. I tried everything I could to help him...first in not-so-good ways..."
"But as I got wiser in AlAnon I started making better decisions."
"I hope that you can understand that at this point, I've realized that this is completely out of my control. I've allowed him to cross boundaries that are sacred to me - fidelity, fiscal responsibility, acting as a responsible father. And I can't do it anymore."
"Dad, he's taken up with a woman who is sicker than him and I combined. He left his truck that you helped him find and buy with her while he's in rehab."
"He left this marriage a long time ago, Dad. I'm sorry that I have to move on, but it's time. I hope you can understand - maybe you can talk to my HP about it, throw in a good word for me because I'm in so much pain."
I tucked his ashes back away, ever so gently, in the drawer and closed it softly.
Oh Lord, this disease is so wicked, so cunning, so selfish and hateful. As much as I know that I can't take it away, I wish wish wish that I could.
I just have to be strong for myself and know that my HP, my dad, my FIL and all those that I loved that are with my HP now are taking care of me.