A Story of Recovery:
Walking through pain and grief without food
Reaching my 90th day was not as I had envisioned. While my fellows were gathered in the building beside me having an FA meeting, I sat with my mom, my two sisters, and my husband planning my dad’s funeral. My fellows continued to be right there with me through the entire process. I don’t know how people manage loss without a twelve-step program. I am so grateful to FA for getting me through the loss of my father abstinently.
My father saw his doctor for pneumonia in early September. My children had just gone back to school and I made a casual remark about cheering Papa up with some of their artwork when I visited him that day. My son asked, “Mom can you wait until after school so I can come too?”
My first thought was that I had to make sure my children wouldn’t catch pneumonia. My second thought was that if I wait for the bus arrival at 4:05 and then drive over to my parents, would I be able to visit and still get dinner made by 5:00? Before I got back to the house, my Higher Power suggested that I bring my food to my parents’ house and prepare dinner there. I credit my Higher Power, because I don’t problem-solve on the fly.
When we got to my parents’ house, my children unloaded a bag of pictures, a copy of Dad’s favorite book and the last of the fruit off our tree. The kids sat on the couch and talked to him about school. When he came for dinner, Dad said, “I’m glad you suggested this Mick. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
After the second round of antibiotics, Dad’s health was not improving. Another appointment with the doctor resulted in hospitalization. With the hospital treatment, he was able get some rest. He was in better spirits. He knew the names of everyone. He joked with the nurses, the food service lady and his roommate.
But his illness progressed rapidly. When I came back on Thursday morning he was sedated. I held his hand and sang songs from my childhood, hoping he could hear me. Then the doctor showed me pictures of his lungs, which had stage-4 cancer.
By 6:00 p.m. Friday, he had died. That day there was no communication from my dad, no open eyes, no words, not even a gesture. It became a process for us to let go. At the end, he was surrounded by his wife, daughters, sons-in-law, aunt, sister and many grandchildren.
I didn’t know how I could drive my car home that night, let alone tell my children that Papa was no longer alive. In the past, grief had drawn me into myself so hard that I couldn’t even talk. The structure of FA helped me have a reason to get out of bed the next morning. I was present with Mom as we went through the arrangements. I was able to contribute pictures of Dad, since I had been setting aside some for my FA qualification.
Throughout the process of the wake and funeral, we were engulfed in family, neighbors and FA fellows. One of my FA friends became my liaison for all FA communications. My fellows brought meals when I wasn’t even home. With their help, it was easy for me to support my mother and take care of my needs. Several fellows brought dresses for me to wear to the wake and funeral. Seeing fellows in the receiving line gave me strength to stand by my mom. I made phone calls to fellows who had also experienced the loss of a parent. As we shared our common experiences, I knew that someone understood what I was going through and that I did not have to pick up the bite to get through this.
Before FA I would not have been open to help. Now I see all the support that is offered to me and I gladly open my hands to accept. I know that this is important to my recovery. Learning to reach out to my FA fellows for help, I also learned to reach out to my non-FA community. I attended a hospice program. Several months later, my children are registered for the hospice’s after-school club for grief.
Because I was willing to ask for this help, I could hear the suggestion that it was okay to celebrate holidays differently this year. When my husband suggested we go to Florida for the holidays, I couldn’t think of any reason to argue (and I usually do). Three weeks later we found ourselves at a picnic table having Christmas dinner with his parents and my mom. Afterwards, an FA fellow picked me up for her meeting where I shared my story.
Because of FA, I have walked through pain, grief, and the beginning of healing without having to pick up the food.