December 12, 2016 is Tom's 30th clean and sober anniversary. Twelve-Twelve. Twelve was Tom's lucky number. It was the number on his game jerseys as a kid. His anniversary is 12-12. It is an important day.
It is a really important day. To those in the recovery community, the anniversary of the day one makes the decision to cease and desist from using all mood and mind altering substances is perhaps the biggest day of the year. Bigger than a birthday. It is the beginning of a new life. And so every year when one remains clean and sober, the day is a celebration. That day is D-Day--decision day. At the beginning, one takes it a day at a time. But with commitment, perseverance, strength and humility, the years start to add up. A life is reclaimed and rebuilt and built upon. Yes it is a big day.
And because it is a big day in Tom's life, it is also a big day in my life. Had he not made that decision thirty years ago, I most likely would not have known him, would not have loved him, would not have married him, would not have had so many happy years with him. There are the many people that Tom touched in his work who would not have had the opportunity to make life-changing decisions that have led them to better lives. Our family would not have had the years of his love and his laughter, his steady presence and his shenanigans. His musical family would not have had the pleasure of playing with him, making music with him, and entertaining with him--touching people with music and fun and laughter, for music is the sound of life. The men that sponsored him would not have had the privilege of knowing him deeply and helping him through life's trials and tribulations. The men that he sponsored would not have had his loving and unconditional support as they found their way into and through recovery. His friends would not have known (or reclaimed) the exuberant, loving, humble, funny, joyful person that he was. Had he not made that decision thirty years ago I would not have been loved so deeply and would not have loved so deeply. Not everyone can look back on a life and remember the exact moment, the exact day, that everything changed. Tom could.
So I will celebrate this day, every year, for the rest of my life. Because it was the day that changed his world, and therefore, changed the world of many others, in big and small ways. This day reminds me that he mattered. His life mattered. And he mattered to many others, not just to me. Even though he is not with us in the physical, he is still with us.
Two years ago, on his 28th, I had planned a small party. I told him it was important to celebrate these things. He asked me if I wanted to celebrate it because I thought it was going to be his last. Of course I said no, but I feared that it would be. Alas, it was. That evening we had to cancel the party and I took him to the hospital. Two days later he had another trip and was admitted for almost two weeks, being discharged on Christmas Eve. It was the beginning of his very rapid decline. I have not forgotten, nor shall I, what this time of year was like. Perhaps that is why I have been so weepy. I recently read a blog about grief and the holidays and I was reassured when I read that I didn't need to worry about healing during this time, I just had to get through it. Well, I've gotten through this time of year before and I will again. It is nice to know that getting through is all I HAVE to do. This year is different than last, and I imagine it will be different next year.
So my love. I celebrate you and thank you for making that decision thirty years ago. My life is different because of it.
