But, like in years past, I couldn't help but reflect upon those who were missing, the ones who were at last year's events but for various reasons didn't make it to this year's celebrations.
Many moved on to better jobs with more opportunities. But some of those who didn't show up fell victim to our disease in one way or the other. A few disappeared, reportedly because they relapsed. A couple of residents developed medical problems due to smoking and are unable to get out much. Another longtime resident, sober at the time, was killed in a motorcycle accident earlier in the year. Another long-term member of our staff committed suicide. A couple of others succumbed to cancer and heart disease.
And then there is that large group of people that I recall from over the last 25 years – all of them gone because they couldn't do what it took to stay clean and sober. I sat in groups with many of them and listened to them as they said – with all sincerity – that they didn't want to die "with a needle in their arm." Yet, later on, the stories would filter back into the community about them being found in a field or an alley somewhere, dead from an overdose of heroin. Others would talk about not wanting to die drunk, yet we'd get calls from the police or hospitals, trying to identify them so they could contact their families.
I may be painting a somber, dark picture here. But the reality of the recovery business is that our disease takes a lot of our friends from us. It can be daunting at times to think of all those we lose. But what keeps us going - and keeps us from being overwhelmed with depression - is the ones who make it. While we lose many addicts and alcoholics, we also have a lot of successful graduates who are living happy and sober lives today.
And it's these success stories that keep us energized and helps us to show up every day for the new people who keep arriving at our door, asking for help.
