Bob was an alcoholic. When they found him, his feet had turned black. He died alone with only the dignity that he wasn’t struggling to reach the phone or knocking things over to get someone’s attention to help him. Instead, he stripped naked, poured himself one last drink, fell asleep and never woke up.

Doctors told us four months ago that most of his liver was gone that he wouldn’t last a month even if he stayed off the sauce.

It was a sad and lonesome death.

Bob was a sad and lonesome man. He would have appreciated the coincidence. In fact, he probably spent these last few weeks and months preparing himself for this inevitable end.

Bob came out to eat with us Christmas Eve of 2004. We had a fantastic dinner. Bob had a vodka with cranberry juice. The plan was to go back and open our presents after dinner. But as we were handing out presents, Bob asked if he could be driven home.

He couldn’t even find joy in the eyes and smile of a child on Christmas Eve.

Bob was a sad man and it was a lonely death. Did I say that already?

Alcoholism is one of the nastiest monsters that lives in the human heart because it eats away at the things you care most about first. Bob had four kids–they each have kids. He didn’t speak to any of them more than a few times in the past ten years. He only took the help he had to–the kind of help which got him to his next sad bottle.

Bob’s trash looked like a fraternity party every week, empty bottle necks poking out the side of cheap plastic, a ritual of glass banging and breaking against a metal trash truck each week. This ritual has now come to a close.

Bob was my step-dad’s brother and while I can’t say that I loved him, I love my step-father dearly and the pain of responsibility that has fallen upon him from his brother has been leveraged upon everyone in the family. Now we must stand together and try to put a frame around Bob’s life–what it meant. What was it worth?

I can think of nothing more depressing than a man’s life being summed up as an example of what not to do, a spiritual bright line below which there is no return and one inevitably sinks into the abyss…just like Bob did.

It was a sad and lonesome death. If there are people you love suffering from this disease, do everything you can to save them from a fate worse than death–dying without meaning.

LINKS:
Alcoholics Anonymous

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