by Tim Gray

Created on: December 04, 2008   Last Updated: December 18, 2008

My mom died last week at age 87. I've never experienced such a mixed bag of emotions in my life. Needless to say, I will miss her greatly. However, legally blind and suffering from dementia, I was so relieved such deplorable personal circumstances were finally over for her. Then again, struggle was what my mom knew best. Although she had 37 years of sobriety, my mom would, by definition, always remain a non-functioning alcoholic. Even after nearly four decades, some significant people in her life never forgave her. She struggled so very hard with her emotions, because of the hurt feelings her drinking had generated.

My mom chose alcohol as a means of self-medication. She had terrible coping skills and could overreact horribly over the simplest of life's curve balls. Something as common as one of her three children spilling a glass of milk at dinner could send her into the stratosphere. This type of behavior only served as fodder for her detractors, but I always sensed that a legitimate, identifiable medical condition was at the root of her episodes. After hitting rock bottom and finding sobriety, she never felt it necessary to access the medical community, in an attempt to delve deeper into what really tormented her. My heart ached for her and I always felt some critical answers and possible treatments were at her disposal, if she would just pursue her own issues to a greater degree.

She was very intelligent, highly talented artistically and had an inordinate degree of compassion for those that were forced to battle alcoholism as tenaciously as she did. Once sober and connected with Alcoholics Anonymous, she devoted the rest of her life to serving those with woeful drinking issues. She had a uniquely special ability to patiently spend multiple hours on the phone with the intoxicated, as they blubbered on about how cruelly life had and continued to treat them. She never lost her composure and would offer suggestions or meaningful help in the kindest of ways. She was so specially gifted in this manner. If a ride to a treatment center at 2 AM was warranted, she would be out the door and on her way to assist. My mom always drove impeccably groomed cars. The alcoholically needy would vomit in them multiple times, during her missions of mercy over the years. She never voiced any complaint.

At the funeral home no fewer than eight people readily shared with me that my mom had saved their lives. I had heard this from others many times over the years, when similar groups had gathered. She was saint-like in the eyes of so very many.

If personal growth is the barometer by which we measure success in life, than my mom couldn't have lived a greater life. Of this much I'll always be certain. I never observed her appearing so peaceful as she did lying in her casket the Friday night of her wake. I couldn't help but believe that she had earned the opportunity to move on to a much better place.

I'm also certain of the following. In terms of service to others, no one can achieve more in a lifetime than my mom did. In the final analysis, God truly granted her the serenity she so fervently worked for and had sought so valiantly all her life. I, her husband and many of her completely devoted friends, will miss her in ways from which we will never entirely recover.

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