Doggie gone
One of the guys I sponsor, in recovery, lost his dog. She had lived a long and happy life, but her time had come.
He has six months sober.
Only 2 times guys like us have to be concerned: good times and bad times.
Actually, I was not to concerned. The real hard times are not what pushes is back to the bottle, usually. It is the dull ache of everyday, boring life that causes Relasp. It sneaks up on us.
I reach out to my guy. No responce. Not good, he usually responds to texts right away.
Finally, I get him on the horn. He’s ok, well, not really. The dog was part of the family, it hurts like losing a kid.
I know, I have five mutts.
My guy is not mad. If he had relasped he would have been defensive, angry.
The big things take care of them selves. It’s the times, weeks from now, when we find an old toy, or blanket and we revisit that gapping hole in our heart. That is when John Barely Corn sneaks up on us.
So I pray that I will be there for my sponcee. And if the worst should happen, we will get through that as well.
