Nothing for Granted

By: Ronald H. | Santa Ysabel, California

August, 1999

We all take things for granted sometimes, loved ones in particular. My mother passed away one morning in April 1990. Since then, the feeling of loss is always with me whether I think about it or not.

Being a single parent with five kids, Mom had her hands full. We weren’t all close but we did love one another. People described me as the black sheep of the family. I was about fourteen years old when I experienced my first drink of alcohol. I had no way of knowing where it was going to take me.

I continued to drink for the next twenty-five years, not realizing how caught up I’d become in the sickness of alcohol. I isolated myself from the rest of my family, and was married and divorced in a short period of time. God graced me with a beautiful daughter but she was only eight months old when my wife and I separated. As J. was growing up, I hid my drinking pretty well from her, but regretfully, it was a different situation with my mother. I couldn’t or wouldn’t see what I was doing to her, as she watched me destroy myself. I did things like stealing money, fighting with her, and saying things I wish I could take back. My mother still loved me through it all and stood by me when the rest of my family turned their backs. When she passed away, though, I was truly alone.

But I kept on drinking. I guess I wasn’t deep enough in the hole I was digging for myself. I saw my daughter regularly each weekend and she never had a clue I was drinking. Although she meant the world to me, I often made an excuse and left early because I craved a drink. Sometimes that’s all I’d think about when we were together. I cut our visits short so often I know it made her feel bad.

The day came when my ex-wife told me she was moving and taking J. away with her. This was a shock to me. I didn’t even see it coming. My ex-wife explained how she’d met this guy and was in love with him. She reassured me how nice he was and told me about a small farm he owned in a distant state. Here I was living in a twelve-foot trailer and barely able to take care of myself. I had a job, but that was about all. Alcohol had pretty much taken control of me, mentally and physically. The only consolation I had was that my former wife did take good care of J. I signed the release papers so she could leave the state legally with my daughter, and they moved in November 1995.

I promised J. I would fly out to visit in late spring. I wrote twice a week but I still missed her so much. April, May, and June were here and gone. On July 13, I received a heartbreaking letter from my daughter, saying how disappointed she was in me. The truth was that I hadn’t made it out to see her that spring because I’d drunk the money up for the airfare. I couldn’t take it any more. I had finally hit bottom.

I haven’t taken a drink since that day. Eight months have passed and by the grace of God I remain sober. I’m doing fine and in touch with myself and my daughter. When I think of Mom I know she’s proud of me finally. I wanted to write this story to say how important it is for me to take the time to show people how much I care about them. I don’t think it’s ever too late to change, but my loved ones may not have the time to wait around, so I want to live each day knowing this. I once read that we should live as if we were in the continual presence of the Lord. This advice helps me to remember not to take things for granted like I used to.