A tribute to my wife
Teresa was born into nothing, with an alcoholic father who died when she was 6. As the baby of the family, her older siblings worked to give her a better life than they themselves experienced – nice clothes and a car when she was 16. Her mother stipulated in her will that the family home would not be sold unless Teresa had a place to stay; mom was very sick before she passed when Teresa was in her late 20’s.
When Teresa was in her late teens, her sister and best friend died horrifically of leukemia just days after her wedding; Teresa never recovered from this loss. Teresa always liked her beer, but this tragedy quickly drove her down a bad path, including an abusive relationship that included excessive drinking, drug use and physical beatings. Treatment centers were tried and failed, as Teresa continued to run from problems, holding onto the belief that she could fix herself.
Teresa blamed her drinking on the bad memories from her hometown – faint recall of trips to bar with father, early death of sister, caring for sick mother, abusive boyfriend – and left her hometown for what she referred to as the Mecca. She had a decent job and her sister’s family was in walking distance from her apartment. She loved seeing her nephews grow up. Her sister’s job at the hospital provided her with affluent friends; relationships she always longed for, that were deserving of her electric personality. After about a year of her being in her new world, I called her up.
I was a friend of hers in that small town; I suggested that I visit her Mecca. The 90 mile trips became frequent, but the bars were always part of my weekend visits. I had never experienced first-hand the life of an alcoholic and admit I was pretty naïve. After about a year of dating, my job took me 500 miles South and Teresa went with me. She had 3 or 4 jobs in 12 months in Indiana, and the drinking continued. I worked nights so she was often alone; we each worked while the other was home. I tried to fix her by adding a dog to our family. Although she loved her puppy, the drinking continued.
After 18 months of living with “the hicks”, my job took us back to Mecca, but the issues didn’t stop with the move. The good times definitely outweighed the bad. When Teresa wasn’t drinking, she was the best person I knew – smart, giving, and kind to everyone she met, people and animals. You had to love her. Although the alcohol and a couple more trips to rehab made me hesitant to progress the relationship, I decided after about 6 more years that marriage was the “fix” this time. I soon realized marriage and a new house in a great neighborhood wasn’t the answer. Although the bad times were worse, they didn’t last as long. She became a binge drinker, but the binge included job loss, longer detox time, and occasional hospital visits for cuts and broken bones. After about four years of this, I reacted by moving out for a short time and filing for divorce. However, as the time approached for the final court date, I canceled the proceedings to give it another shot.
The last year has been like the others, good and bad. Everything was a trigger, happiness or sadness, too little or too much stress at work, the death of one dog and addition of a new puppy. During these binges, my new way to cope was to leave the house. Al-anon meetings or going to the bar coincided with her binges. Divorce was on the horizon, but again the good times were still very good.
A month ago today, Teresa called me one last time to ask for forgiveness, saying that she was sorry about what the alcohol did to her and how it affected the marriage, and she vowed to do better tomorrow. Overnight, Teresa died in her sleep at the age of 49. The people who Teresa actually welcomed into her life will say they lost one of the best people they knew.