I sat in the back of the church basement while everyone chatted, hiding in a little alcove. I felt awkward and out of place, and after two weeks of coming to that church basement and others like it while trying to embrace sobriety, I wasn’t sure it was where I needed or wanted to be. I sat there, feeling petulant and angry, arms crossed and glaring at everyone around me.
Martel, a young guy with long curly hair and a funky hat, came over and sat down next to me. He asked me how I was doing, he cracked stupid jokes, and eventually I felt myself thaw toward him. He was relaxed and confident, his sobriety a comfortable mantle on his shoulders. Eventually another young man, Web, came and sat with us, and then a third young guy named Brian joined too.
While Martel told a story and gestured, I noticed his scars. “Are those your track marks?” I asked. He nodded, and stretched out his arm for me to look. Web extended his arm too, and less willingly, so did Brian. I showed them mine, my tracks marks still faintly bruised and the marks red and swollen: I’d only just stopped abusing my veins two weeks before, after all.
That moment transformed me. Sitting in a room of alcoholics, and unsure about my alcoholism still, I hadn’t felt welcome before that moment. I stayed in that room and others like it, and have now for over seventeen years.
Unfortunately, Martel did not. Years ago he relapsed, becoming a troubled ghost Charlie and I ran into on the streets occasionally, clearly high or drunk, slowly falling apart. Brian relapsed even before that, driving into a wall while high and being severely injured. Eventually, he succumbed to drug addiction and died. Web killed himself while high on crack because his girlfriend left him, shooting himself while parked in front of her house.
And yesterday I learned that Martel, that bright and shining young man that sat with me so kindly that day, has lost his long battle as well. The disease of addiction finally cut him down.
Three young men saved me that day, and now they are all dead.
Like Web and Brian, I’d said my goodbye to Martel many years ago when it became clear that sobriety wasn’t something he wanted. But I still am so, so sad to hear that he’s died.
Thank you, Martel, for changing my mind that day. For giving me a gift you couldn’t keep for yourself.
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
That is so sad, I’m glad they were there for you when you needed them. Breaks my heart that they did not make it.
*hugs*
Not everyone makes it. If you’ve been in the program you know and understand that….but man does it suck when you know those that don’t. Such a tragic waste.
That is terribly sad. I am so sorry to hear about these men, but so grateful that they were able to help you when you needed it the most.
I am a big believer that everything happens for a reason. They were all sober at the same time on that day you needed them. So sad to hear that they are gone now. Your sobriety is an amazing testament to that day and their gift to you
It is so very sad they didn’t make it. But, that day, they didn’t just give you a gift. They gave each and every one of us a gift…because without them, we never would have gotten to know you.
The fact that I didn’t know your friends, or don’t really know you on a deep personal level, but I’m crying hysterically means that these situations effect so many in completely different ways. As you described your friends, I couldn’t help but see the family members that I’ve lost in the same aspect, and in you, the ones that powered through and are thankful for each clean day they are given. My heart breaks for you, Cecily, but my soul rejoices that you had 3 angels that saved you. We appreciate and love you.
It’s sad to hear of their passing, but I’m so glad something good came of their lives. You are a living monument to how someone can in a short period of time can make such a difference. And you continue to pay it forward by being out there and proving it can be done. I’m sorry for your loss. HUGS!
My husband and I are both sober…..3 years for me, almost 4 for him. We get to a place, occasionally, where we feel so cocky, like, we got this. We don’t need anybody, or their help. And then something rears its head, a story, like yours, reminds us we are on a slippery slope, and all it takes is one, just 1, and he or I could be the person being mourned. The person someone is grieving the loss of. It helps us remember, just 1…..flip that coin……just 1, one day next to 1400 other sober days. So, thank you for the reminder. And I’m so sorry for your heartache and loss.
I hope all three are now at peace.
Heartbreaking.
So very tragic. So sad to hear this and so thankful you made it.
It seems that some people seem to exist for the sole purpose of teaching us something, to give us a important gift, to change our lives. They leave us too soon.
Maybe they are the real angels.
Life can be painful, and I’m sorry your friends ultimately couldn’t survive that pain, but it gives me hope to hear that while they were alive they lent some light. This is a beautiful tribute. I like your narrative pieces best.
So damn heartbreaking. This is a lovely tribute to the man and the gift.
I’m not in recovery, but have lost the three most important men in my life to drugs and alcohol – my dad, my brother, and my ex. Dad and brother lost their battles years ago to the ultimate demise, I hope they are at peace. Met my ex when he had been sober for several years, but then, eventually, he wasn’t sober any more. I stay in touch with him off and on because I hope that there will be a moment like you had with the three boys. The moment that will make the difference for him. But I don’t think he wants sobriety, and maybe (probably?)never will. I am so conflicted, feeling like I need to say goodbye because he drags me down with him emotionally when he is in crisis, but also feeling like I don’t want to give up on him. I’m so glad those boys were at that meeting for you that day.
I love your blog. Thank you for the reminder.
My sober birthday is coming up (5 years), and although I am not active in the program any more (far too long to explain why but I have been sober out of the program longer than I was in the program), I keep my big book close to me at home.
It’s heartbreaking to hear when the addiction wins…
What a gift.
(((Cecily)))
excellent blog post
Wow. What a moving story. I know have watched people fade away into something I don’t recognize and it is nice to know that sometimes, they can be saved.
This is so powerful. Alcoholism is in our family as well. I dropped my brother off at rehab at age 15 for drug addiction. I watched him relapse as a 23 year old soldier coming home from war who couldn’t cope. But he got his life together because he finally decided that HE wanted sobriety- not someone else making that choice for him. Thank you for that reminder that you have to want it. I think I’m going to call him up and just tell him that I’m so proud of him for wanting it and continue to hope for and love the ones in our family who don’t want it yet.
I knew Web, too, and I am friends with his mom. (I think we may have talked about that before.) So much talent gone too soon. I think of him often.
What a gift they gave to you.