Ken F. -- Rest in Peace with Oliver and Help Him Laugh

Today I went to a Pleasant Hill noon meeting before heading back to Sacramento.

I got to the meeting a little early and while I was enjoying a little quiet time, I noticed there was a notice on the wall with a friend's picture on it -- never good news for the person with their picture on such a piece of paper in an AA meeting place. They are always about members who no longer need to worry about their anonymity. Typically an obituary. Such notices fall into two types: they are about members who died sober or about members who died drunk/high.

The good news today was that Ken Finnegan, an AA member for over 37 years, died sober. Not sure, but I don't think all 37 years were sober years -- but I'm pretty sure he had over 20 when he died. Doesn't really matter either way. It is what is and neither outcome is based on some moral accomplishment or the lack thereof.

I write about this tonite though because of one sentence in the announcement: "Ken died in the loving presence of his family on April 10th at 8:15am."

That hit me like a ton of bricks. A low gutteral sound escaped from my throat before I could keep it quiet. I immediately walked out of the meeting place and sat on a bench outside where I could regroup. You see this last Tues at 8:15am is about when my daughter was sitting down at the hospital, getting hooked to the fetal monitor and having its silence tell her what she already suspected: her baby boy was dead.

Ken died at the same moment in time.

For several reasons, this fact, coincidence or moment of grace, this truth brought me a wave of peace. You had to know Ken to understand this. Ken was a funny funny man. In every way! He was probably 70+ years old and didn't give a shit what he looked like: he had a very almost Albino skinny ostrich looking frame. Usually wore a old tee shirt of some color totally at odds with 1970s style basketball short shorts. I'm sure there are State laws somewhere that make his attire illegal or at least requiring some sort of permit.

He was also always sharing some hokey joke at the end of a meeting that made all of us laugh no matter what tragedies had been shared during that same meeting -- and somehow all of them would strangely include some weirdly wise truth about life.

This all brought me comfort. To know Ken might be there for Oliver in whatever follows death. Neither Ken or Oliver will be alone. And they will be laughing their little asses off!

My moment of peace was then interrupted by a guy who's been struggling to get/stay sober since I came into AA: He came out and stood in front of me and then leaned down to give me a bear hug, telling me that he hoped I was ok. He'd heard me talk about Oliver's death several days ago. He was worried about me. Told me that he had always appreciated my kind and supportive shares ever since he first met me ten years ago.

I returned the compliment by saying I'd always been pulling for him to get and stay sober since I met him and that I hoped it would click for him soon. We hugged again and then joined the meeting.

The healing continues...

Take care!

Mike L.