Last night, I drove to the cemetery to make an amends to my Mother. It seemed appropriate to do it before Mother’s Day arrives. I just sat and talked. Then I took communion with her, leaving her bread on the tombstone, and pouring her transubstantiated grape juice (not wine) into the ground where her body lay. It was so quiet. A wave of grief came over me. She is not here, not visible anyway. My sobriety allows me to feel all my emotions deeply. My addiction would have found this grief unacceptable, to be immediately pushed away with a swig, or two, or three… and the memory of last night would have been stolen from me by the intoxicant. When I cry for her now, I am admitting that we had a love relationship that was valuable to me. It is my right and an honor to her to feel this loss.
I left and returned this morning with My Father and sister. She bought two durable rose bushes, and we planted them before the rains came in. It was perfect timing. Mom loves roses.
I love you, Mom.
Daily Reprieve 