A Loved One Lost

 This past week we lost a beloved member of our AA family, dearest Jessica passed away, from an overdose. She was only in her 40s, a beautiful newly-married woman, solid it appeared in her AA program and seemingly successful in her work. I’m left feeling heartbroken, and thinking about her husband Dan and her two young sons by another marriage.

I knew Jessica Dallas for three years, she was first referred to me by sponsor Shawn when I got up the courage to first meet him at a Starbucks on S. High Street, just outside of German Village. When I confided to him that day that I was contending with a dual diagnosis of alcoholism and bipolar disorder, he suggested I get in touch with a close friend of his, Jessica, who had the same diagnosis.

That night, I reached out to Jessica via text, and we spent a good hour sharing information about ourselves. I remember her saying not to share information about my bipolar in the rooms because people gossip—and I kept it to myself that I didn’t agree, I feel it’s important to bring my diagnosis out of the closet so I don’t feel shame anymore for something that isn’t my fault. I feel kinda guilty sharing that Jess had bipolar, maybe she didn’t want anyone to know, am I betraying her confidence by discussing it? Yet I want to talk about it, as if it will help me understand why Jess is gone now…yet I’m still here.

I got to know Jessica better through countless Monday night zooms over the years, through holiday gatherings at Shawn’s place, and the Sunday night German Village AA meeting I Zoom or sometimes attend in person. Jess was full of wisdom, appeared to be rocking her program, she talked of overcoming homelessness and for a time losing custody of her children, only to regain her footing through sobriety and the Steps and sponsorship, and attending both AA and Alanon meetings. She was often invited to tell her story at Speaker meetings, I never heard her lead, but I’m sure it was great.

At times, I was kinda jealous of beautiful Jess, she was just always so wise in her comments on our Monday night Zoom, whereas I mostly mumble in a med-induced haze, probably making no sense whatsoever. I’m having a hard time fathoming that she won’t be there anymore, it just feels all wrong, and there’s now a gaping hole in our tight knit sponsorship family. 

Why did this happen? Could it have been prevented? I’m left with these questions that want answers. The longer the questions I have go unanswered the more frustrated I get. I feel selfish, like I’m entitled to know all the details of this tragic event. I don’t understand why I get so obsessed with wanting to know, it’s really juvenile, immature, unbecoming. 

This whole thing was just so unexpected. At least I never saw it coming. Yet I know how challenging managing a dual diagnosis is, and you add on childrearing and a job and it can just be too much. Oh Jess, you always seemed so strong. Rest easy now, dear angel. I mourn you, my friend and confidant. And I’m grateful to have known you for the time I did.