“Ow,” I shouted in my head and into the cold, dark night.
I was lying on my back, my left leg tucked under me in an odd position. There was pain but it would’ve been worse without my thick winter coat cushioning my fall. There was no one in the dark, icy hotel parking lot. I carefully straightened my leg which was stiff but working fine. No break. Thank You, God. I rolled onto my side. Pain, but nothing searing. I felt the rock in my jeans pocket and fished it out from the layers of winter clothes.
“These are the days of miracle and wonder — Paul Simon” it said. My sponsor had given me this touchstone which I carried with me everywhere I went. “Yes, they are,” I sighed in agreement. How else could I have driven 500 miles alone in the middle of a pandemic, in wintry weather, and taken a fall on ice without injuries, to be with my developmentally disabled brother who was dying, if there weren’t miracles?
No one was in the parking lot still. The bare bushes near me were coated in ice. I tried to get up but fell again. There was no salt on the pavement yet. Somehow, I crawled to get under the awning of the hotel registration entrance, got my footing and stood up. An employee was coming out with a bucket of salt.
During the following two weeks, I relived this slip and fall several times when I broke my abstinence. There were many, many difficult conversations with doctors, my brother’s guardian/lawyer, nursing facility staff, and my conscience. There were few times my footing felt stable. Every couple of days I had a slip from abstinence, but I got back up. I kept trying. I talked to my sponsor. I attended a meeting or two virtually. I read literature. And I wrote. A lot. I wrote about my feelings. I kept a journal of the medical decisions and actions.
And there were miracles. Moments of accepting my helplessness. Gratitude for everyone working on my brother’s behalf. Heightened awareness of a spiritual connection while sitting in silence with him. What I finally realized during those 2 weeks was that I was not my brother’s higher power. I never was. He had been in the care of his Higher Power all his life and I was blessed to witness his Higher Power’s love and caring actions these last few days. How could I possibly have had the power to do these things for him? I couldn’t, of course.
The weather had cleared up for my journey home. A few days later I was blessed with solid abstinence.
— Carol D.