courage2

--Sir Walter Raleigh

Savor every loving moment.

SoberLeigh

Robby and Melissa - words are inadequate.

Love to both of you.

Soberpotamus

Sending my love to you both, Rob & Melissa.

XOXO

EndGameNYC

Hi Robby and Melissa.

The search for words that console, for me, is like searching for a solution for a problem that does not exist. Or for one that escapes me. It's a language that exists within, but rarely between. I can't bring myself to say the words, "I'm sorry for your loss." I don't know what it means. Though I can be present, I cannot always be verbal. I can't climb the mountain, so I'll walk around it. Your consolation in life, your achievements, your relationship with Melissa, and all the rest of it, have already occurred, and you both benefit from their endurance. That's why we're here, on this thread, sharing in this experience with you, but also at a "distance," a super highway paved with emotion and experience that simply cannot be measured. Yet we are still moved, even at great distance.

It's been said in many different ways that a rich and fulfilling life is a life lived through and with other people. I've heard many people say, often after getting some sober time, and just as many after living lives of chronic and focused self-indulgence, that the only thing of real value in their lives is their lived ones. While we are living, other people give meaning to our lives by being the objects of our love and care. (Has anyone "in love," or anyone who's experienced a mature and enduring love, ever felt that their lives were without meaning?) We love someone by virtue of our seeing their potential as human beings and, when things go well, they approach their potential through and with our enduring love. When we are no longer alive, we give meaning to the lives of others by our continuing to be the object of their love and care. The specter of death, coming to grips with the reality that we will someday die, throws in sharper relief the depth and endurance of our ongoing affections, and shows us what we treasure most deeply in life.

Value and meaning are subjective experiences; they are created by man. No one dealt me either my limitations or my resourcefulness, and no one can "save" me from either of them. My legacy, if such a thing exists at all, will not be written by me, but by the people who continue to carry me throughout their lives, for better or worse. Our dying may not influence the past, but it can certainly have an impact on the future.

ArtFriend

This is a letter written by Sullivan Ballou, a soldier in the Union army during the Civil War. He wrote it to his wife. I thought it was so moving and lovely.

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more . . .

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt. . .

Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.

If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness . . .

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights . . . always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again . . .

Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the first Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861.

RobbyRobot

(((ArtFriend))) Beautiful. Thank you.

Thank you everybody for all the recent thoughtful and heartfelt posts.

Venecia

Hello, Rob and Melissa and fellow journeyers,

The gifts of this thread seem boundless. And it challenges us to confront and contemplate a great deal.

The title, "Authenticity," came to mind as I googled and found the NYT article about Elaine Stritch. The article left me uncomfortable, challenged -- yet again -- to ask what this journey is about. Would I, if confronted with terminal illness, see it as permission to drink?

Man, oh man, I hope the answer is a resounding "no!" I know Elaine Stritch as well as any other celebrity -- not at all. So I cannot know what was going on insider her head. But it was difficult not to wonder what what she had gained during her period of sobriety. Anything? It was hard not to wonder whether it was abstinence or maybe two decades of something approximating white-knuckling. But it wasn't recovery. It wasn't authenticity. Not as I know it, anyway.

If life dealt me the blow it has dealt you, Rob, I'd like to think I'd follow your example, steadfast in a commitment I made to self. (And I'm no spring chicken but I still have hopes that I'll someday meet someone who brings to my life what Melissa brings to yours. You are amazing gifts to one another, a love that will continue, as EndGame points out.)

I'm closing in on my two-year anniversary. I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I am light years away from who I was pre-sobriety. Everything about this journey has forced me to grow, for without growth this would be nothing but a two-year day in, day out struggle to hold the cravings at bay. Nothing more. Sobriety and recovery have compelled me -- shoved me or pushed me, sometimes -- into a level of introspection that I've not experienced in its fullness until now. Growing peace. And this is all far from over.

To envision myself drinking as the end draws near takes on a dimension that would be comical were it not so pathetic. Alcoholism wasn't excised from my being; it is simply dormant and I intend to keep it that way. The notion of someone doling out an occasional glass of wine to a semi-invalid me leads rapidly to the image of fits being thrown. "Give me the rest of that ******* botttle!" There's no doubt in my mind that under any circumstances, the monster would come back to life with a vengeance. No slow slide for me.

No thanks.

Kind of an odd day here. I took the day off, got in a monster workout and attended to some routine biz -- stuff that's hard to get done on workdays. Rewarded myself with an order for "To Set a Watchman," which I look forward to greatly. We had torrential rains last night but a heavy haze has returned due to Canadian forest fires. I've not seen anything like this since the big Yellowstone fires. Both a long way away -- interesting.

Things you can usually see even far in the distance are obscured for the moment.

Clearer skies will return. They always do.

Olive1

Thank you, Venecia. That is beautiful.

SoberLeigh

Thanks from me, as well, Venecia. Very beautiful, indeed.

SoberLeigh

Thanks to everyone who contributes of themselves on this thread. What enrichment you bring to each other and to me.

trachemys

This is a little convoluted, so I hope I write it right.

The only other on line forum I ever cared about was one for a particular pastime. It was worldwide, grew rather large and active and quite a community and sub-communities developed. We had one common interest and it was a lifestyle interest. The forum was provided free of charge by a magazine dedicated to the lifestyle. The forum software was buggy and a lot groused, good-naturedly. The community persevered.

One year, the PTB(powers that be) decided to redo the magazine website and integrate the forums more with the overall "image" and "feel". The new "custom" forums were an abomination. The usability was so bad that the community dissolved, the people went to other venues. Participation by long time users fell to 10%.

The administrator of the original, buggy site was undeterred. On his own, he created a new forum. Created it as a backup, in case it was needed.

(bear with me here)

And Guess What? The new, custom forum suffered a fatal crash. The magazine management told the administrator to launch his backup. He sent emails to every old member he could find and the ball started rolling. At 100 a day, the old members came back. The community was rebulding.

Why is this story here?

Because in the hiatus and collapse of the original community, two keystone members had passed and only a few were aware. There has been a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth in the middle of the joy and happiness of renewal.

Why I write all this is that I feel so privileged to be part of your journey Rob and Melissa.

Online relationships are so hard to define and explain. Why do we care for people we've never met? Shared experiences, shared jokes, shared thoughts?

All I know is that I so much more appreciate people that share their lives with me than those I discover have gone.

Hope I made sense.

Della1968

I have been struggling to find something to say since Melissa posted. I am still struggling but just wanted to say thank you to you all. These threads do a lot to restore some of my faith in humanity.

Vic I hope you are still doing well.

fini

Would I, if confronted with terminal illness, see it as permission to drink?

well....do you?
Venecia, while it's bound to be different to have terminal illness NOW, you will, unless you're in a fatal accident, be faced with terminal illness.
it's a given.

if you're wondering whether you'd see that as "permission" or excuse or occasion or option to drink, you/we might as well figure that out now.

because if you have that option on the table in case of x, y or z, then it's not off the table.

best to figure out the ramifications of that . my opinion.

Venecia

If I seemed circumspect, it was unintentional.

Off the table. Now and forever. No matter what. Period.

courage2

Super interesting. Since I was the one -- or maybe it was EndGame -- that raised this issue, I'll rattle on about it a little -- my view differs considerably from what Venecia & fini wrote.

Would I see illness -- or anything else -- as permission to drink? Frankly, if I used that language, I'd see the sun coming up in the morning or setting at night as permission to drink. Everything is allowed -- but everything has a consequence.

But I wouldn't use that language. 'Permission' is hardly in my vocabulary -- ask my parents, ask my son. It certainIy doesn't have anything to do with my sobriety. 'Permission to drink' suggests to me that drinking is a privilege the sober me is denying the alcoholic me. That's not the way it feels.

The way it feels is that as an alcoholic, I don't want to drink any more. I fully recognize that as an alcoholic, I may want to drink again, and may do so. That's really not my problem for today.

The option is on my table. Very few things come off my table -- in fact, I generally find it more comforting than otherwise to have options -- even bad ones -- as long as body, money, and mind hold out. As I said about closure, it makes for some haunting, some psychic pain even, but I'd rather live with those than in a cage of my own making.

I hope this doesn't offend anybody. All's I mean is, right now I'm 100% non-ambivalent about sobriety. I don't forecast my own future or judge another alcoholic on the basis of their abstinence.

Rob, I hope you're feeling ok today. I hope you give yourself rest, and don't take on too many decisions at once.

RobbyRobot

Jesus, so many awesome posts. All are appreciated. Seriously appreciated. Thanks all y'all.

Okay, I made my calls and I now have an ongoing Rx for dilaudid. My medical oncologist will also add a pain management specialist to the team to explore options available. Now that it's done, I feel less anxious about these issues. I'll make the call inquiring about hospice tomorrow.

We've also now a working contract with a selling agent for our home in Lincoln. She is confident about the sale before Oct 1. Awesome.

I'm thinking I'll make the call to my estranged daughter this week. She as yet has no clue to my health status.

courage2

Good progress, Rob. Why don't you treat yourself & Melissa to one ice-cream sundae, two spoons? xxoo

RobbyRobot

RobbyRobot

Good night and good morning
Have a safe one friends

Gilmer

Courage, you have the best ideas!