Back to the bridge

                                                                                                   

How many of us remember the prayers we were taught when we were children such as, “God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food. By His hand we all are fed, give us Lord our daily bread…Amen.” Then there was the one that we memorized before we went to sleep. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I was taught at that point to say, God bless, mommy and daddy and the list went on and on from there until sleep overtook me or I started remembering other things that soon swept the prayer off into the swirl of my mind.

As I grew and became older I forgot to pray anymore or simply thought it to be too childish to continue to pray so methodically. However for some like myself that never was taught the true purpose in prayer I never understood all I needed to do was talk to God as I would my best friend.

Therefore, prayer didn’t enter my mind as a means of escape from the demons of my life, however, when the alcohol became a power to which I had no strength, when I was locked away in the mental hospital, when friends and family were a faded memory I found myself often regressing back to childhood  in my early 20’s. Closing my eyes real tight before I fell asleep or passed out…  “Now I lay me down to sleep…” In a queer way it brought comfort and sanity back into an out of control life.

I do suppose as a blog reader, some are wondering where I am going with all of what I just said. Others ask about now what this has to do with Donnie’s picture?

Again I am not sure exactly other than a few hours ago I received a call from Missy saying Donnie’s sister-in-law called her for help. Donnie is heading back to the streets. Missy tried to talk sense into him but it went no where. She asked me to call, maybe Donnie would listen to me.

I called, I also got nowhere. He said a few things that upset me. One was, “I have to do it this way.” When he said that my heart sunk. I heard unspoken words that weren’t saying just that he wanted to go back to the streets to drink. Oh sure that is part of it. However, Donnie knows Tim is gone, and that he would be all alone. Tim took care of Donnie.

I kept repeating that fact over and over. I told him there was nothing left out there for him. Most of the men are gone either through death or rehab. He too kept repeating back to me that he knew that but he had to do it this way.

The second thing he said as a sober man that disturbed me was “I have to go… I love you.” My heart split at that moment. I have a sick feeling that I will never hear Donnie sober ever again tell me that he loves me. I don’t think he’s going to make it this time.

I have had these feelings before. I don’t like them. I want to pray, yet I don’t know how or what to say anymore. Should it be, “Thank you Father for our food” or “Now I lay me down to sleep?” I’m scared for Donnie.

The picture of Donnie was taken Friday night when we found him drunk. I will go back to the streets and no doubt find him drunk tonight. He once again will look up at me from where he’s sitting and quote his favorite saying when he’s indulged himself with ten too many, that being, “You don’t even know me!”

Problem is I DO know him. I love him and I want him safe. I want him to want to live.

Maybe I should pray a prayer for Donnie with the ending to the prayer I learned many years ago… “God bless, Donnie…”