This week, while in California on vacation, we visited a former brother-in- law with whom I used to drink and do drugs in the sixties and seventies. He’s been in a nursing home for six years after a stroke left him living in a wheelchair.
It was a bittersweet visit, seeing him incapacitated, a fragile remnant of the tough man he used to be. He was surprised when we appeared in his room and woke him up.
“It’s not my birthday,” he said, when he saw us. “What’s the occasion?”
I explained we hadn’t been in California for a year and wanted to see how he was doing. He said he was lonely, even though he lives with a 150 other residents of the nursing home.
We reminisced for an hour or so, talking of the days before I got sober over twenty years ago. He asked me to leave him money to buy marijuana and vodka. And before I left we gave him some.
Some may wonder why I’d give him money, knowing he would use it to get high. After all, is this hypocrisy from someone who manages a drug program? I don’t think so. After all, I’m not a missionary who’s campaigning for sobriety. If others want to get high that’s none of my business. My role in life is to help those who want to get clean and sober change their lives. I’m not out to convince others that living sober is great idea. Life teaches us what works.
After we gave him a hug and left I was awash in gratitude for my life today. I am grateful to God for blessing me with health, family, a circle of sober friends, and the prosperity I enjoy today.
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