Losing a Hero
My sponsor died early Wednesday morning.
The news was expected, just not expected so soon.
It’s hard to lose a hero.
Heroes are found in a lot of places.
Some attribute heroism to celebrity. I’ve never felt the emotional connection to those distant stars of stage and screen. While I’m a fan of The Heartbreakers, I can’t say I felt anything when I heard that Tom Petty died. I didn’t know the man. Idolizing his music, learning to play “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” or watching Youtube videos of The Travelling Wilburry’s did not simulate the sort of relationship whose severance sheds tears.
Losing someone who has, for nearly a decade, modeled behavior for a sober life of fulfillment is another story. I wept like a baby.
Personal heroes are the best heroes. I could argue they are the only heroes. It’s not to say I must know someone in order for that person to change my life. Dozens of people I have never met have changed my life. Some of them weren’t alive when I was born. I’ve felt an intellectual nearness, a mental intimacy to the letters of Rainer Maria Rilke and Vincent Van Gogh. Jane Austen’s voice has bounded from print with such authority and grace that I’ve imagined a terse British accent narrating Pride and Prejudice as I read. Scripture verses have flashed through my brain like lightning and rolled in my heart like thunder. This is as close as I’ve come to a relationship with a hero that I haven’t met. But those heroes you can’t lose because they are already gone.
Tom Petty never showed me how to live. And while Rilke told me how to live—and continues to do so—I never knocked on his door to find him penning poetry by candlelight. I never felt warmth in his stare.
Heroes are the people you know. They must be. Heroes play an active role in your life. They are not the people you follow on Twitter, but those who leave their footprints behind for you to follow. They are nearer to you than you feel to yourself. Heroes aren’t people who show off their capabilities. They show you how capable you can be, if you follow their lead.
Larry was my hero.
He was the sort of person you never doubted. An oak. If he told you he’d be there, he’d be there. I’ve heard stories of him driving two hours roundtrip every night to be of service to a particular newcomer. He left behind hundreds of stories like that.
I texted my wife the news.
When my son came home, he gave me a hug, the sweet boy that he is. I hugged him back the way Larry hugged me—a bomb of an embrace.
A natural and immediate urgency I felt this week was to pass on to my son all that Larry has taught me. So when my son started fussing about the brand of Granola we bought, I said, “Do you remember dad’s friend Larry? The one who died?”
He nodded and muttered something in agreement.
“He meant a lot to me. He always told me, ‘don’t sweat the small stuff.’ Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head. I was glad he was listening.
“It means that granola is granola. And you should be grateful that you have something to eat.”
I felt a charge to those words, an electricity, a power whose force is not altogether mine and is stronger as a result.
I tried to duplicate the experience the following morning when my son was fussing about his sister sitting in his seat at the breakfast table. My son could not accept the fact that she was in his seat.
“Do you know what acceptance means?” I said.
He wasn’t to be reached, however. There was no reigning in his reaction to the slight of his sister in his seat. What I wanted to tell him was what my sponsor so often told me: “You don’t have to like the circumstances in order to accept them.”
I’ll have to share that lesson another day.
And I will.
That’s why I know he isn’t gone.
After passing, his legacy become more present than ever.
I considered briefly, for example, that it would be impossible for me to find time to go to the wake on Friday and the funeral Saturday with all we have scheduled. It was a brief consideration, followed by the words of my sponsor forever recorded in my imagination, “You show up because life is about showing up.” Of course I’m going to show up to celebrate the life of a man who showed me that anything worthwhile is worth showing up for. I texted with a friend flying in from rural Australia for the same reason.
There weren’t many places I could turn in the days after his death without being reminded of his indelible impact on me. I saw him in a hundred different memories, heard his voice advice me on each problem.
Everytime I called to ask his advice on how to help someone in need, he gave me a version of his most important saying, “No rules, just love.” May I always keep it that simple.
Larry lives on.
He lives on in the man I hope to become having known him.
I think that’s what a hero does. A hero lives forever.
I pray that when I pass I will be a hero in the eyes of someone the way Larry was a hero in mine, not so that I won’t be forgotten, but so he will be remembered.
If I do that, it will be enough.
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Dear Mark, so sorry for your loss. And so very happy that you were blessed with Larry in your life. Beautifully written as all your posts are, but this one was very special. Thank you.
Beautiful tribute! I am so sorry for your loss! Prayers for you and your family.
Mark – Beautiful words that prove Larry is not now, and will never be “gone”.
Your sponsor is living on through you and you are passing his wisdom on to those of us who need to hear these words. Thank you for sharing your heart and allowing yourself to be vulnerable.
It’s nice to see you here leaving a word, Kathy. Thank you.
So sorry to read of your loss and a great tribute.
I’ve lost a few really good sober friends on this recovery journey and they all hurt.
Each one, right? And we can’t numb away the pain. Which is a good thing, ultimately, but hard. Thanks man.
Sorry for your loss, Mark. Your sponsor sounds like a great man. By the lessons I learn through your writing, it is obvious that his legacy is living on through you. Thank you.
Thank you for pointing that out, Dan. I certainly hope to reach people in my writing the way he reached people. I’m honored.
Yes, that is imho eternal life, leaving everyone you touch with the essence of your being, we only lose their physical presence the best part stays with us and lives on, that we might pass it onto all we encounter. Bless you and Thank You, Mark
Brother, you will be remembered, there is no doubt about that. Larry was a great man and I’m glad I got the chance to meet him. This is a wonderful tribute and he will live on in your heart forever.
Thanks for saying that, D. It’s really cool to me that you got to meet him. Those were some of his last days before the most recent diagnosis. You got to see him in his prime.
Damn, brother. I’m sorry for your loss. Remember him and pass his memory on to others, that’s how I honor my Mike. If you need anything, I’m here for you. Drop me a line and I’ll get you my cell number.
Thanks Jim. I really appreciate that. It would be great to better connect over the phone.
Send me an email to BDJ.fitrecovery(at)gmail
I’ll reply with my cell number.
Sorry for your loss, I loved this tribute Mark. Personal heroes are the best heroes. Xx
I’m so sorry for your loss. I expect Larry would be proud to know you will carry on the message.
Love is always the answer.
Anne
I’m so sorry, Mark. You are a hero already. Thanks for the beautiful reminder that what we do and who we help matters.
That’s a really kind note to leave, Kristen. Thank you for saying that. It does matter! It might be all that matters. After seeing at his funeral the way he was loved, it might be all that really matters.
I’m sorry for your loss Mark. And what a beautiful tribute to him, to keep him alive in lessons to your son. And life altering moments, with others.
So sorry, Mark. Larry’s legacy lives on through you, extending further to those you visit with your words. Carry on…
Dear Mark,
Thank you for writing this very raw piece. I am sorry for your loss. I’ve been going through a difficult time with my Al-Anon sponsor and I had to release her. She was my third one. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, but I asked the universe to send me successful sponsorship stories so that I don’t lose hope. This morning, I woke up to this blog in my inbox. I can’t help but think it was a sign from the universe telling me to not give up on Al-Anon and sponsorship. Thank you for continuing to carry your sponsor’s wisdom forward and sharing it with your son and the rest of the world!
I’m sorry for your difficulty in finding one. Don’t give up! I’ll tell you what. You don’t give up your search and I won’t give up on my search for a new sponsor. Deal? I think we definitely both need to move through this…not around it.
A lovely tribute to your friend and mentor. My condolences, man. Keep your head up, and keep shining.
J
Dear Mark,
I am so sorry for your loss. It sounds like his life was full of purpose and his love and caring will live on in the people he helped.
Lots of love and hugs to you. xxx
Mark, as I said to you earlier, I’m so glad I was able to meet Larry. A great man. We have a saying in our family: “90% of life is just showing up.” It’s the truth. I’m really sorry for your loss; his legacy through you lives on.
I’m sorry for your loss Mark.
Your words were strong, heartfelt and true. A beautiful tribute to Larry, he sounds like an amazing person.
Best
Young
Oh, Mark, I am so very sorry to read this. His legacy will live on in you though. You are a better person because he was in your life. You can pass that on to the next person in need.
Love,
Cassie (glows)
Thanks Cassie!
Funny, I knew it was you before the (glows) in parentheses. Thanks for the support.
I am sorry for your loss. It is beautiful that you’ve been able to experience having such a hero in your life, something many people may never truly know. What is even more profound to me is that Larry is obviously already living on through you. I love how you are sharing this with with your son, even he if doesn’t always quite get it yet – he will. Lovely read, thank you for sharing. -Anne
Thanks for that Anne. I appreciate you leaving a note. I’ve found the power of the group—the larger recovery posse out there—has floated me through this stuff.
I’m so very sorry Mark for your loss of your mate Larry. He sounds an absolute diamond, I’m so very glad you had him in your life. You wrote beautifully about him and your passing on of a lesson to your boy. You’ve been in my thoughts a lot these last several months. be strong my friend, sending you all our love johnny & mags xxx
Thanks John. Always good to hear from you.
Larry would be so proud, I think. Though I never heard of Larry before this read, he’s an inspiration to me too! I’m sorry for your lost of such a wonderful man. ll
Thank you for saying that Dana. Nice to hear from you.
Hey Mark, only seeing this now. So sorry to hear that. Our sponsors, especially the good ones , are an incredibly important part of our sober lives. The really good ones become friends as well so the loss is a double whammy. Hope you are ok, your kids hugs will help.
Thanks for reading and for commenting. That’s all that matters. And it does matter, a bunch. I still need to find a new sponsor but I’m working on it, with great people like you to lean on in the mean time.