Resentment is the “number one” offender. It destroys more alcoholics than anything else.
~ Alcoholics Anonymous page 64
I last talked to Dominic in mid-April. He had drunk dialed Frederick Place looking for some sympathy. I chuckled and informed him that he had called the wrong person, because I don’t buy into the poor me game or, as Robin Williams said in his act, the “poor me…poor me…pour me another drink.” But, being the stubborn ethanol challenged individual he was, Dominic did his best to evoke a hint of sympathy from me. I finally had enough and told him he was going to die if he didn’t quit drinking. He replied, “I know.” I told Dominic, as I had, multiple times, that he had to let go of his anger if he wanted to live. He replied that he wanted to live but couldn’t forgive this person and never would. I told him yet again that he would die if he did not. He replied, “I know.” This dialogue repeated itself for at least ten minutes. It was about the sixth time we had this very chat. He had ceased listening to anything I said and kept repeating himself. I finally became frustrated and concerned so I threatened to have a health and welfare check done on him. He WAS listening! The venom that spewed forth from his mouth through the phone was so forceful I almost hung up on him. I did not because I understood why he reacted the way he did, because I had reacted the same way several times during my active alcoholism. A health and welfare check is one of the most feared occasions in an alcoholic’s life. They can result in a trip to the hospital and detox. Dominic had been to the hospital and detox multiple times in the past few weeks and wasn’t going back. I did not pursue a check because he promised me he would be detoxing the old- fashioned way at his sponsor’s the next day.
During that last phone call, I mentioned Fleur’s passing (If you recall, I wrote about her in April), and he became so angry at me that he accused me of not telling him and hung up on me. Dominic and Fleur were here together in 2017 and rented rooms in the same house when they left. Together they gave me the beautiful wood and metal Serenity Prayer plaque I mentioned in April. They truly cared about each other which is why Dominic was the first person I contacted to share that Fleur had passed away.
I wasn’t upset when he hung up on me. I “got” that he was mad at himself, because I’d done the same thing. I stared at the phone for a while, and it hit me that my friend had given up. I began mourning Dominic that minute.
Dominic was the male version of me in many ways. For that reason, I have an advantage over others because I understood all too well what made him drink. Dominic called Frederick Place home for the first time in 2017. He had recently lost his wife in a car accident. He relocated to Rhinelander from California because he wanted to be geographically closer to one of his sons and grandchildren.
Unfortunately, he quickly found out living with his son was not going to be an option. In 2018 he lost both of his parents within months of each other, and his biological family all but quit talking to him. He didn’t understand why. In our last call I tried telling him that they were saving themselves just as my family had. People who love an alcoholic eventually get to the point that they just can’t watch a person they love self-destruct anymore. Dominic just couldn’t grasp that because he felt Sober Dominic and Drunk Dominic were one in the same. I tried telling him he was the classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde alcoholic, but he did not believe that - even as he was berating his family. Everything had been done TO him, and he was a victim. It is the victim way of thinking that would not allow him to let go of a gargantuan resentment, even though he knew he would die if he did not. Now, to all you normies that sounds somewhat ridiculous. Who wouldn’t forgive someone in order to live? The short answer, in my opinion, is an alcoholic who wants to keep drinking. We resurrect the painful memories we’ve protected and nurtured and drink to dull the pain, all the while self-righteously exclaiming, “You’d drink like me if you’d lived my life too!” I did that very thing from the day my mom passed away in 1998 until my fifth tour of duty in a treatment center.
With four treatments under my belt, I knew I had to find a way to let go of my anger and resentment toward God for taking my mom away too soon. I knew if I did not, I would continue to drink, and each relapse I’d had thus far had been worse than the one before. I was ready to listen and go to any length to remove that resentment. My counselor gave me two poster-sized pieces of paper to do a collage project which I thought was a stupid waste of time. By the time I filled up both posters, I was no longer thinking it was stupid and meekly asked for more paper. I’m not sure exactly how creating a collage from magazine pictures evoked forgiveness, and I don’t need to know. I just know my resentment toward God was gone. I told Dominic that story and suggested he make a collage. He just laughed.
I tried in vain to explain what forgiveness had given me my sobriety. Dominic said he’d work on it, but he never did. Dominic left Frederick Place abruptly and returned to the apartment he was sure he would be evicted from. That day I knew with 100% certainty he would drink. I still had a little hope he would recover. He had a sponsor who would do anything for him. His sponsor truly cared about Dominic. He had the staff and former housemates of Frederick Place who cared deeply for him. In the end, the people who were currently in his life pulling for him were not enough to save him.
Dominic passed away in his apartment on May 6. Instead of working on his anger and resentment, he switched from beer to vodka. If I know my friend, he was mentally singing the line, “Wine is fine, but whiskey’s quicker. Suicide is slow with liquor,” from
Ozzy Osbourne’s “Suicide Solution” while walking to the liquor store.
When I got to work the night of May 6th many residents were inconsolable and feeling guilty that they ignored his multiple calls, because they just couldn’t deal with Drunk Dominic. I did my best to explain that the only person who could have helped Dominic was Dominic, and they should instead remember the Sober Dominic they’d come to love and respect. (He did have 5 months sober prior to leaving here.) The one who made them laugh and would give them the Springsteen inspired, black and white checkered flannel shirt off his back. I reminded them that Dominic knew what would happen if he continued to drink, but he drank anyway. I suggested they look at his passing as a positive event as Dominic was finally at peace. Easy to say but not so easy to do. To promote a sense of closure, Anna decided to plan a memorial. A group of residents and staff met at Hodag Park, did a little grilling, and released balloons. It was a blustery spring day so most of the balloons were out of sight in no time. One, however, remained firmly stuck in a tree. Maybe that was Dominic’s way of saying he was there as stubborn as always. As I was holding my balloon waiting for others to be ready, I thought of the lyrics from the song, “The Secret of the Bottle” by the heavy metal band Jackyl.
I feel better when I'm drinking
It just seems to ease my mind
And all my worries and troubles
They just seem to fade behind
Oh, the secret of the bottle
It may never be known
So I'll raise my glass and propose a toast
And this one (expletive) is for you
I did not talk to Dominic after that phone call. I do not feel guilty for the things I said to him during our last call. I do not feel like I could have done more to help him. I know Dominic understood why I was so hard on him. I cared deeply and had been in his shoes. I am grateful Dominic entered my life in 2017. I miss my friend. I miss our nightly “check-ins” and the laughter that accompanied them. I even miss the way he used to try to get me riled up discussing politics. I am relieved Dominic is finally at peace. However, I do wonder if Dominic would have healed and let go of his anger if, as his case manager, I had made him do a stupid collage he would call a waste of time too.
RIP you little sh*t. You were a blessing to more people than you could ever imagine.
