The Hard Things...

it's been a long time now, hasn't it?  it's not a life that's been great, and therefore nothing to write about.  it's been a lack of energy, a low drive to do much of anything, and therefore no writing gets done.  not here anyway.  but i have things going on.  that's life on life's terms, isn't it?

yesterday was a year since my sponsor passed away, since he died.  October 22, 2018.  yesterday his wife, Nancy, put his ashes into the creek.  i went to visit, to be with her while she did it.  i went to visit, to be support, to be supported. sad to say, in this we're practically all either one has, though we both have people who understand, as much as they can.  but the dynamic of who Johnnie L Copeland was is bigger than most people can encapsulate, and there's no point going into it a year later. 

i shared a poem that i wrote, but it's not the heart of my feelings.

In the end of ‘88,

Dying incrementally,

Didn’t mean to make you wait,

Glad that you were there

For me.

Another whole millennium,

How many times around the sun?

And I thought you would never die,

Thought for damn sure 

I’d be the one.

I didn’t have

A single thing,

Afraid to look folks

In the eye,

Twenty and newly

Off the pipe,

Too dumb to live,

Too scared to die,

And there you were,

A strong, black man,

A 3 piece suit

And glasses dark,

No smile, no frown,

Just power contained,

Something in that moment,

A spark,

Around the room,

The voices went,

I never heard

One single word

Until the time came

That you spoke,

Your voice,

And nothing else

Was heard.

Everyone hung

Upon your tone,

Your syllables

Brought order in

And somewhere

In my coke froze mind

I thought,

‘I want to be like him.”

When love’s an action,

Not a word,

Its gravity

Is greater still,

And everything

You’ve given me

Is love

That has not had it's fill,

For love does not need

To defend itself,

That’s one thing

You taught me,

Love is not bound

By death or life,

It goes on

Exponentially.

From when you’d sit

In my folk’s drive

And talk to me

Hours at a time

After meetings,

Making me know

That I was blessed

With a good mind.

When at meetings

I was honored

To be the one

Holding the floor

Knowing that what you

Shared with me

Would accomplish

Changes and more,

I wasn’t one

For the big stage,

I liked the trenches

For my fights

And while most showed

Only disdain

You let me know

That was alright,

But not forever,

Not always,

Just until it was time

To grow,

And when I asked

When would that be,

You’d smile and say,

“I’ll let you know.”

You knew I’d wait

And work

And try my best

To serve the higher cause,

And even when

My faith was shook

And when I chose

To take a pause

You never judged,

You never condemned,

You never sent me away.

You were the one

Who cleared the path,

You were the one

Who helped me stay,

You were the one

Who showed me things,

Like how to walk

And talk, and live.

You were the one

Who showed me

Spirit things were the

Best things to give,

A word of thanks,

A kindness shared,

A laugh, a cigarette,

A talk 

That did not have

A timer set,

A volleyball game,

A brief walk.

A person who would 

Have your back

Regardless what the fools

Pretend,

You were my uncle,

Brother,

Briefly you were my

Father,

But my friend?

Always.

From the very start.

And so much, so goddamned

Much more,

And what can I say now

Except

I understand

What I’m here for…

I wish you could have

Met my grandson,

Wish he could have

Heard your voice,

Wish he’d been blessed

By your wisdom,

But I guess

That leaves no choice

But to make sure

He has that option

By staying true

To the Way,

To the road my feet were placed on,

To the things

You had to say,

For they live 

Inside my spirit,

In my wolf

A lion resides,

And thanks to you

I’m not fearing any 

Human;

I don’t hide.

I make choices,

Live with the results,

Pay my dues

And do my time.

Enjoy what God

Puts before me,

Be it wafer, wine or crime.

I don’t have the luxury

Of belief that

Heaven awaits,

I know there’s a resurrection,

I know that’s the only fate,

I know I’ll see you again,

Maybe a moment, maybe more,

But for the past moments,

I’m grateful,

And that’s what the Program’s for.

Thank you for being

My Sponsor,

And for being

So much more...

i'm not saying it isn't true, but it's not the heart of my feelings about and for this man. 

because when the tape runs back all the way, i only remember being sad and scared.  those two emotions were all i had.

i was scared of people, scared because i'd taken one too many casual daggers along the way, about my weight, about my appearance, one too many daggers that people were always sticking in me.  i'd shut down, and to manage the shutting down, i drank, i smoked reefer, i did cocaine.  whatever it took to numb myself enough that the shutting down would work.  and i was sad because i had no real friends, no self-esteem, no prospect of a life that would be happiness  to live.  when i stood on that bucket in the garage on Gilbert Street in '88, i was trying to kill the need for people, to kill the weariness of struggling so hard to just fit in, of trying so much to not feel anything at all for way too long.

so in the first days of sobriety, all the numbness was gone, and only the fear of people was present.  and this man, this human being, he knew all this, somehow.  he knew it and he responded to it.  he started out our journey by saving my life, and he never stopped saving it. 

there would be days that i couldn't function at all, days where i couldn't leave my parent's basement.  paralyzed and just managing to do the autonomic stuff.  he would come to my parent's house, he would drag me to a meeting, he would make me clean up.  he would make me eat.  he showed me how to go to a restaurant, how to order food, how to sit and be normal. 

i danced because he made me dance.  I sing because he let me know i didn't have to be ashamed of enjoying creating things.  i write because he showed me that i have a right to be whomever i want to be, whatever that might be. 

he was significant in building up the CA 12 step fellowship, not just here but in Ohio period.  he played a part in building up the World Service level, a part i know nothing about.  he was smart, well-spoken, clean, handsome, confident, funny, stern, caring and intuitive.  he cared about people, from the depth of himself he cared about people.  he got no credit for his work, he got no remembrance for the people he's helped.  he got a bunch of betrayals and a bunch of ingratitude.  and in the end, the fellowship he'd worked so hard for for so many years...turned its back on him.  as it always does. 

so how do you put all that into a poem?


i saw my grandson and my daughter for the first time since September yesterday.  i went to lunch with them, i hung for a brief moment.  my grandson is so big now.  he says 'Hi' and 'Hello', he communicates mostly with attempts to communicate, if that makes sense.  it was very emotional for me.  i realize how much missing people affects me.  it's not easy at all.  to try to act like there's not a deficit of souls in my existence, just so i can balance out the sadness and the responsibility, is such an arduous chore.  but you do what you have to do.  in about 3 more weeks, i should be safe; i should be able to hold my grandson again.  and i will.  believe me, i will. 

i have more to say, but not this morning.  maybe tonight.  thank you for waiting for me, though.  i'll try to do better.