Hole

When I was getting clean, I think it was probably around day 9 or 10, I dug a deep hole in the ground. A cat was dying of aging, quietly in a closet, and her owner asked me if I could do the honors. I didn't wear work-gloves and I started in the early morning before breakfast or tea.

It took hours. I probably dug it much deeper than I needed to (ain't that the way of my life). I remember how the earth was in ribbons, dry dirt to mud to clay, the deeper I got.

A few days later, when we checked on the cat and found that she was no longer breathing, I wrapped her in her blanket and tucked her into her grave. It was up among some small pines, shady and calm.

It was the first physically demanding thing I had been able to do after detoxing. Sweating and breathing heavy felt like the initial small accomplishments in a huge project I was gingerly taking on. Becoming a normal person.

Most people have the good sense never to derail their lives in the way that I did. I used to believe in throwing away regret but that was before I ever did anything really regretful. Regret is fine. It keeps you from making the same mistakes twice. Forgive yourself, correct the wrongs, and never do it again.

I still don't know what to do for other people that are in the place that I was. I don't know what made me decide that enough was enough and it was time to get clean. It's true what they say about how an addict can't be persuaded by anyone but themselves to get better.

I am worried, at times deeply and to distraction, about someone I can't remove from my life. In the past, if I've been lied to and had my heart broken, I give that person up. But family is different, isn't it? Family should always forgive. I want to so badly. But I can't, not until it is over.

My heart regards her seldom, because it's easier that way, and my mourning is quiet and lonely. I wish that someday she can leave it behind, shoulder that regret, find a good place, and dig a hole.