I guess it’s kind of tough to stop thinking about Willie.
Strange noises around the house keep reminding me of his little distinctions. Amanda
was brushing Emme’s hair last night in such a precise tempo that it exactly
matched the speed at which he meandered down the vinyl hallway, tapping all
along with his grotesque nails. I still have his collar, and when I picked it
up from the floor yesterday because Roofus had chewed it in half, I sniffed it
and his distinct bouquet made me well up ever so slightly.
His loss hit me harder than I thought it would, and I
thought it would hit me hard. He was such an integral part of life, and for so
long he was my wingdog. He had seen my worst and best, and he kept me company
when I was alone. It’s been five days since I said goodbye, and I still feel
grief. It is subsiding, and I know it will pass, but it might take a little
time to adjust.
The day before I took him in for his final nap, I visited
the McLeod County jail, where I had the opportunity to bring the message of
A.A. to people in an all too familiar situation. There were three of us who
showed up to share our experience, but sadly, only one inmate signed up for the
meeting. I guess it isn’t sad, I was just hoping for a bigger turnout. It only
takes two people to have an official meeting, so I suppose we had twice the
requirement, which is twice what we have on occasion in my meeting in town. And
we spent the hour talking, listening, and sharing our understanding of each
other, and discovering the bond we all have, and imparting hope on somebody who
may not know freedom for a long time.
I shared that I felt free for the first time in years while
incarcerated. I told of how I started going to meetings because of the air
conditioning, and I kept hearing things that made sense, and people kept
telling stories that I lived, and nobody was shocked by the things I said.
People understood me, and wanted to help me. And somehow, I helped them.
It was the first time I walked in and out of a jail without
handcuffs. Nobody frisked me, and nobody checked my pockets before I went in or
after I left. Nobody did a cavity search even though I offered money for one,
and I didn’t have to go through a metal detector. It seems that they have some
sort of trust for people in the program.
That’s about all I have for this one. I’ll be fine. I’ve
been sad before, I’ll be sad again. I know that the only inevitability in life
is death, and even though sometimes we know it’s coming, it’s still a shock to
the system.
Go Twins.
