Tuesday, I set out to do something that I have not attempted before. One of the reasons that I chose to have my surgery here was that I would have the support of my AA family as I recovered from my surgery and went through radiation. But with the exception of a small meeting we started on Sunday for my benefit, I hadn’t been to any regular meetings since I got out of the hospital. If I wanted to be with all the people I love it was only logical that I should go to them. That meant going to regular meetings, even if I couldn’t participate by sharing.
So with that worthy goal in mind, Charlotte and I got in the car and began driving to the 11:00 meeting at Church of Christ. But before I even reached the end of the driveway, I found myself crying and so full of ambiguous feelings that I was paralyzed. Where the hell did that come from? I hadn’t cried since the surgery. Suffering such a tremendous loss of function left me only two alternatives: to give in to the hopelessness that loomed always at the periphery of my consciousness. Or to adopt the attitude that it was all part of God’s plan, that good was bound to come out of it, and that He held me in His loving hands. It was the latter I chose, and continue to choose today. What benefit is there to say you believe in a loving, all-powerful God if, when the harsh realities of life present their formidable challenges, you derive no strength or comfort for so believing?
Yet at that moment, sitting in a pool of swirling inexplicable emotion, I wondered if I had, in fact, just been whistling past the graveyard. Had I just been putting on the brave face to win recognition for my courage, something I needed so badly at the time? It seemed like everything I had been saying and believing became a hollow shell, collapsing under its own weight. What was the source of this tremendous grief that had so thoroughly seized me?
So, as I was taught, I prayed, I meditated, I sought God’s will for my life. I became willing to do whatever was required of me to accomplish His purposes. But mostly I cried, curled up on my bed, asking “why me.” The answer came in due course and, like most of the answers that God gives us, it wasn’t quite what I wanted. The fact is, the nature of my relationships with others had been irreversibly changed. I wanted to go and be with people in the same comfortable way I always had, but I never would again. I was grieving deeply the loss of the familiar, of the easy familiarity that characterized my relationships with people stretching back decades. I would need to learn an entirely new way of relating. It seemed daunting, and I was horribly frightened that it would not be enough.
Originally, I was going to end here, but I made it to the 10:15 meeting today and it was great seeing everyone. It’s different, that much I can say. And I don’t have a way of communicating spontaneously yet, although that may change in the future. In any case, it’s another hurdle behind me. I certainly felt the love you gave me. I won’t let fear ever rob me of that again.
So you will be seeing me. We will share our friendship in whatever way we can. And God will create something new and surprising and just as wonderful as what we had before.