The Ghosts of Grief

June 17, 1998. 27 years ago. I was 32 years old and my life changed dramatically. I remember receiving a phone call in the early evening from a friend telling me that my ex-boyfriend had been found dead. I remember the bed I was laying in as I cradled the telephone in my hands and began to weep. My precious L. had finally surrendered to his addiction and died from a heroin overdose, after several years of sobriety. I wept as I listened to the details of how his mother had found him in his apartment. I wept when I thought of our breakup only 7 months prior which had nearly gutted me. I entered a whole new realm of grief that would take me on the most painful but necessary journey. Hindsight is funny, right? Today as a 59 year old woman who has been in recovery for over half of my life I am grateful for this experience.

We were good friends who met at a recovery meeting. We shared a similar network of people and met on a regular basis as we healed our addictions. I had a year or so of sobriety when I met L. at a meeting near where I worked. He was dynamic, confident and funny. He was also deeply wounded physically and emotionally from a terrible fire that left burn scars over much of his body, including his face and hands . I saw a brave man with deep brown eyes and a gorgeous head of lush brown hair, casually pulled back into a ponytail. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, I fell for him then and there in that room in a university building on Washington Square Park.

L. came into my life for many reasons, I now know. We shared an amazing connection that turned into a brief romance for several months. I think back on that relationship and wonder how I ever could have been so deeply enmeshed with someone who could not love himself. I now know that I was deeply in love with his potential to be a kinder and more loving partner. How could he be nurturing of me when he could not accept himself? Early sobriety is not a great time for a new romance as one doesn't really know oneself.

Luckily, I was very connected to my therapist and support groups. I relied deeply on my connections to others when the relationship with L. became painful as he began to push me away. His kind words became more cutting as he told me he would never be able to love me the way I deserved to be loved. These words stung but they didn't stop me from loving him. I thought I could make him see how worthy he was with my love. I thought I could make him want to live. Didn't he realize how funny and talented he was? Having good self-esteem is an inside job, as we all know, and it was a battle I didn't know how to detach from. Tears, fights, and promises to be a better girlfriend filled the last few weeks of our relationship. I

I was so naive. It didn't help that his family didn't understand how much I cared about him. They were suspicious of my feelings for him; perhaps they wondered how I could love someone who was so physically scarred. We didn't move in similar social circles, and I was uncomfortable with their judgment of our relationship. It didn't help that he was unable to allow himself to be vulnerable with me. What I didn't know was how dangerous it was for me to be involved with someone who had so many ghosts and scars.

When he broke up with me, over a phone message on my answering machine, I was devastated. I didn't understand that he wouldn't talk with me to explain why he broke it off. I remember being absolutely heart-broken as I tried to adjust to the breakup. I didn't know it then, but I would never see him again.

Rumor had it that he began drinking again, maybe during our last few weeks together, and I do believe he saved my life by breaking away from me. I was so codependent. I would have jumped off of a building if he promised me his love. Clearly, I had work to do.

How did I get through the breakup and death? I cried a lot. I went to a lot of therapy sessions and realized that I needed to grieve many events in my life that L's death triggered in me. Luckily, my therapist, S., sat with me week after week while I cried and struggled to accept the harsh reality of L's death. Grief is something I became VERY familiar with and I needed time to process this loss. Friends and family were concerned with my deep sadness many of them encouraged me to move on and get over it. There is no timeline for grief. Everyone's process is different. And, not having the chance to say goodbye in person amplified the pain.

I remember his funeral vividly on a hot summer day in Manhattan. Coming from a wealthy family., L. was mourned by many folks, including his recovery network. We were stunned, many of us, to attend our first death of a loved one from addiction. So many tears flowed as his aunt sang "Amazing Grace" when they carried his coffin out of the church.

Now, 27 years later, I can honestly say that this day doesn't wound me the way it did for the first few years. I am grateful for L.'s presence in my life, even for a few short years. We shared a beautiful and brief connection that I do believe was destined for us. His death, accidental though it may have been, was tragic yet it showed me the power of addiction. I learned how serious my disease was in the face of this loss. Some of our worst experiences are the best teachers.

It is grace, coupled with discipline and surrender, that has kept me sober. It is grace that has enabled me to learn from painful losses like L. There have been other difficult times in my life including the death of my father, the divorce from my ex-husband and the experiences of cancer in my body. Every single one of these losses taught me something valuable. Grief is a strange and painful land to visit. I don't stay there too long anymore. but I do remember.

L., sweet man., will continue to live on in my memory. I will continue to thank him for teaching me that I can stay sober through a broken heart.