Rum cake for Uncle C

Well, I guess this site will be very out of chronological order. I plan on going back and writing on my experience over the past few months but I also need to make sure I get each day's thoughts down. So here's what happened over the last week.

My uncle passed away last Sunday. He was my mother's brother and my Godfather. Uncle C was the kind of guy who was great to go beer-for-beer with. I think I always viewed him as the "cool" one of the family. I really didn't see him all that often growing up due to geographical distance. But I knew I could count on him every birthday and Christmas for a shirt that I was guaranteed never to wear (even though I loved getting them).

I finally had the opportunity to visit Uncle C and Aunt L about 2 years ago and had a great time sharing a couple rounds of scotch with him on their balcony. So when I found out around 10 AM Sunday morning, the thought came to mind of sitting in an Irish pub, buying rounds of drinks for everyone and sharing stories about him. Instead, I went to an AA meeting. There, I shared about how I didn't even recognize myself that day. I spoke about how, although I didn't have the desire to drink, I was confused at the fact that I wasn't drunk. I mean, it had been a full 2 1/2 hours since I had found out, that was plenty of time to put down half a dozen rounds of beer and Jameson's. I could see an alternate "me" and see the path his day would have taken.

Instead of being drunk though that day, I was able to help my mother and aunt (Uncle C's sisters) make flight arrangements. I was able I was able to have coherent discussions with family members about what had happened.

Most importantly, I was able to "feel". Alcohol does a funny thing by taking away genuine emotion. Every day becomes "fine."

How are you feeling?...fine
Your team lost, how are you feeling?...fine
You won the lottery, how are you feeling?...fine

No matter if it's a great day, a horrible day, or a middle of the road day, everything is just fine. Joy becomes just a better day than others, but nothing to get too excited about. Sadness becomes some blob of tears and depression to the point of forgetting what I was sad about to begin with.

At the meeting that day, I was able to shed real tears or Uncle C. Real, powerful, cathartic, genuine tears. I shed them again at the gravesite as his coffin was lowered. I wanted to shed them. In the past, tears for me were almost solely a cry for attention, a "oh why me, I may have screwed something up, but don't be upset with me, look I'm crying, you should feel sorry for me." When I shed tears this week though, I didn't care if people saw me or not. I would have sat by myself just to feel the emotion and have my moment for Uncle C.

Trigger Effect

As I mentioned, Uncle C was the kind of guy you celebrate, not mourn. Irish wakes were invented for him. Which is what made something at the post-funeral lunch so challenging.

About 30 of us gathered for a large lunch after the funeral on Thursday. Near the end of the meal, my aunt turned to me and asked "did you save room for dessert? They brought rum cake in honor of Uncle C."

Now, I've heard many people discuss this scenario. No one was offering me rum...it was just rum cake. The alcohol cooks off right? Just like using cooking wine, vodka sauce, etc. But who knows? Maybe it could lead to rum and cokes back at the hotel lounge. No way of knowing.

The problem was not so much the cake itself. The problem was it was "in honor of Uncle C." How could I not have some, if it was for him? Wouldn't he have some if he were here?

So I did what I really didn't want to do and called my sponsor. I'm supposed to call him everyday, but have been slacking off. We are working through the steps and I've been very slow (lazy) at doing Step 4. I hadn't spoken with him for over a week. But I figured rather than sitting wracking my brain, let's get some outside help. And it took him about 10 seconds to set me straight.

When I explained the situation to him, his only question was "if someone put an f'in heroin cake in front of you, would you eat that?" Done. Case closed. Now, let me be clear - I have never touched heroin or have any inclination to do so. But the analogy still worked.

I was able to walk back into the restaurant and push the cake aside - again and again as it was offered to me multiple times. Only a handful of people in the room actually knew my situation and it really wasn't the time to go into detail about it, so I just feigned being full from lunch.

Now, this by itself is just a semi-interesting quick story. But for me, it's all part of a larger picture which develops over time. Only today did I see the true benefit of pushing that cake aside. I arrived at the Miami airport yesterday afternoon with my mother and aunt to find that our flight had been cancelled. From there, I was able to work with the airline to not only confirm that we had been rebooked on a later same-day flight, but had been rebooked in first-class. I was also able to help set them up in the airport club during our wait and help carry their bags when we arrived home after midnight. ALL of this would have been that much more difficult with a hangover. I would have had trouble keeping my own head on straight with 12 hours of travel, let alone helping them get home.

Everything about sobriety comes down to a series of little victories these days for me. Painting the walls of my apartment. Paying bills on time. Showing up to events on time. This week proved to be an important victory that I couldn't have seen coming...and without the calories of the rum cake.

Keep on Counting,
B