Life was humming right along in December 2006. I was spending a lot of quality time with my girlfriends, staying at Josh’s condo in Minneapolis a couple times a week, and enjoying a cushy living arrangement in my parents’ basement. Just when I was finally feeling stable, one of my closest friends took a crushing blow. Andrea lost her mom to alcoholism. Claire had been drinking for years, but it wasn’t until recently that she had moved beyond functional alcoholism to liver failure.
Andrea’s dad had passed away the summer after we’d graduated from college, and Claire never found her stride after losing her husband. I don’t know if their marriage was all peaches and cream, but it was obvious that David’s death had left a gaping hole in Claire’s life. In the past seven years, she’d moved from house to house without ever finding a home. Andrea and her siblings had struggled with the role reversal that often comes with aging parents, worrying about their mom’s health and happiness.
Before she got sick, Claire was a an intelligent, witty woman who loved animals and books. While I didn’t know her on a deeply personal level, I respected her, and I’d always felt comfortable and welcome in her home. When Andrea called from Boston to say that her mom had died, I immediately decided to fly out for the funeral. During my marriage, I’d been so caught up in my own drama that I hadn’t always been there for my friends. Now, I realized how much it meant to just show up.
The visual of Claire’s three children sitting in the front-row pew during her funeral will be with me forever. They had each other, and all three had significant others sitting next to them, but their parents were gone. And their grief was complicated by the fact that their mom’s death was at the hands of such a frustrating disease. Anyone in their shoes would have been a mess of anger, regret, and mind-blowing sadness.
After the service, Andrea and her siblings hosted a gathering for friends and family at their mom’s house. People played with Claire’s pets, looked through old photos, and exchanged a lot of hugs. And naturally, we ate, because that’s what people do when they don’t know how else to cope. As the day turned to evening, the wine started to flow, and while it felt a little odd given the circumstances, nobody questioned the need for numbing.
When I landed in Minneapolis the next day, I ached with a sympathetic malaise. I wanted to round up every person who meant something to me and wrap them in a protective coating of hugs, kisses, and eternal health. Having Josh pick me up from the airport was a good first step, and when he pulled up curbside, I wiped my watery eyes and gave him a wow-I-love-you squeeze.
If there was one thing I had learned since my divorce, it was that we’re all so very fragile. I know I am. You are, too. And yet, we’re also stronger than we realize, and if need be, we can slog through the muckiest muck imaginable, fueled by nothing more—nor less—than love.
*****
This post is dedicated to Andrea, who will celebrate a year of sobriety in May. Thanks for letting me share your story. I love you!
[...] been an emotional week. For the most part, I am really happy and grounded these days. I think that witnessing a life lost was enough to shake me up and force me to look around with eyes more focused. Luckily, I like most [...]
Sorry for your friend’s loss but congratulations on her sobriety. Alcoholism has touched my life as well, in more ways than I care to count.
this is an amazing post, and I can’t say anything more than anyone else has already said, but I have to ask… is “muckiest muck” a reference to “Wonderboy” by tenacious D?
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What an incredible post. Congrats to Andrea–that is so incredibly awesome!
This: “…yet, we’re also stronger than we realize, and if need be, we can slog through the muckiest muck imaginable, fueled by nothing more—nor less—than love.” is so true and so profound.
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this post is heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time. my mom has been sober 7 years and i am truly in awe of the strength and courage it takes to stand up to a foe like alcoholism. congrats to andrea on her sobriety.
That’s fantastic about your mom! I think just about every family has been impacted by alcoholism in some way. Thanks for sharing!
Congrats to her one year of sobriety. A celebration indeed!
Thanks for your visit. I’ve really been enjoying your blog. You have a great angle!
Congratulations to Andrea on a year of sobriety. Thanks for sharing, we all need a reminder to give our loved ones an extra squeeze.
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Oh Emma, thank you for writing this. It brought me back but in a very good, positive way. You are so wonderful and I love you dearly.
Nice one emma and andrea…