What Can I Feed My Sick 9 Month Old Baby If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will)

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If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memory Will)

Song written by R. Beresford and H. Sanders and sung by the living legend of country music, George Jonestitled, If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memorial Will)has a much different meaning for me today.

In my case, this song was left wide open to interpret the meaning anyway the listener liked. In George Jones’s case, it was rumored that he lived the song in living color. If his drinking did not kill him, the memory that would kill him was in reference to his wife, at that time, the late, great First Lady of Country Music, Tammy Wynette. The song, most likely, was intended to depict the hurtful and self-destructive ways that a broken relationship or divorce can have on a person unable to handle the disappointment of a failed relationship.

On a more serious note, my rendition of this song packs a punch deadlier than divorce. It means eternal pain for the constant loss of my spouse, my wife, my wife and my life, which was once very happy.

Let me share with you the lyrics of this song, to better understand my story:

If Drinkin’ Don’t Kill Me (Her Memorial Will)

The bars are all closed

It’s four in the morning

Sure shut them all down

According to the form in which I am

I lay my head on the wheel

And the horn sounds

The whole neighborhood knows

That I’m home drunk again

Chorus:

And if drinking doesn’t kill me

Her memory will

I can’t hold on much longer

The way I feel

With the blood from my body

I could start my own yet

And if drinking doesn’t kill me

Her memory will

These old bones move slowly

But so sure of their steps

As I trip on the floor

And lightly touch down

Sir there are ten bottles

Because I tried to forget her

But the memory still remains

Lying here on the ground

Chorus:

And if drinking doesn’t kill me

Her memory will

I can’t hold on much longer

The way I feel

With the blood from my body

I could start my own yet

But if drinking don’t kill me

Her memory will be…

FINALLY

It has been almost six years since the terrible disease of cancer claimed the life of my dear wife, Bobbie. It hit her so hard that she could no longer think straight and she had no control over some of her bodily functions. She fought the relentless demon to the end. But like some evil crusades, they sometimes win.

I’ve always been a beer drinker. I don’t deny that. I am an alcoholic. However, my disease was almost in remission — thanks to my wife, Bobbie. She detested people who drank irresponsibly. And with her attitude and beliefs, I tried not to disappoint her. During our marriage I failed many times, but for the most part – my drinking was under control.

I didn’t enjoy drinking at home, so I drank in bars and lounges. That meant I would have to drive or have some handy designated driver be with me at all times. This was not practical thinking. Being an alcoholic, who thinks exercise? I wasn’t really a regular patron anywhere. I was an irregular patron who had to hop from one establishment to another. I would be bored drinking in one place. This is what would get me in trouble with the law—drinking and driving.

after Bobbie passed away in 2001, I was a lost soul. I was hurting and I didn’t want to feel that kind of grief pain. I was all alone now, and I hated it. without Bobbie, I wanted to die. My drinking came out in full force again. This groundhog saw his shadow. And it meant more than six weeks of winter. It meant two and a half years of pure hell — drinking. I was able to keep my job by some whimsical miracle, or maybe Bobbie was my guiding angel. I do believe in angels. I was a mess. My self worth really didn’t matter anymore. I would drink one day and be very sick for four. This is where my progression of alcoholism took me. I would be seriously ill in bed every weekend after hooking up. I wouldn’t answer the phone or the doorbell if it rang.

I fell off the deep end. I hit rock bottom. I was cited for DUI Then I drank more. I didn’t stop drinking until two and a half months later. Believing in God , my higher power, I surrendered my weakness. I sobered up. I fulfilled the punishments and obligations that the law imposed on me and fulfilled my lifelong plan of sobriety. For once in my life, I got the gorilla off my back. And what a weight it carried on me. I have been sober ever since.

to like George Jones, I stopped drinking before it left me. But Bobbie’s memory lives on. Like the song, it might be her memory that will kill me. i pray God it won’t be drinking that kills me. If my life ends up being sober, I’d rather die sober and have Bobbie’s memory enter me.

i want Bobbie’s a memory to live on, but not necessarily to kill me. If it means living in pain, so be it. Lord knows — I miss her terribly. I have wonderful, happy memories. Memories really can’t kill you if you live in sobriety. Sobriety is a safe harbor. Memories can somehow stop you from living if you don’t move on in your life.

If someone says that life gets easier with time after a loved one has died, it really hasn’t happened to them. I mean it’s not necessarily true. Everyone grieves differently. Human nature tells us to comfort the bereaved. So what else is there to say but: “Give it time, time will heal your pain.”

I guess it’s true that I feed off my pain. Bobbie is a constant presence in my life. I hear another cliché often used, “you have to move on in your life.” What if I don’t want to move on? My front yard has a memorial garden in loving memory of my wife. My computer screen has Bobbie’s picture there. I created a website in honor of Bobbie and for the benefit of cancer research. I play that Bobbie liked I look at pictures and read the cards and letters we gave each other. I surround myself with Bobbie’s memories Will I ever stop revisiting her memory? Probably never. Will I ever move on? Now that, I don’t know. I tried to be in a relationship with a girlfriend who moved in with me two years later Bobbie passed on. It didn’t work. There were many reasons why it was not a successful courtship. I’d rather not go there.

I know in my heart, that Bobbie wouldn’t like to see me like this. She would like to see me happy and move on. I remember her telling me many times after my mom and my aunt passed away not to make a shrine out of their memories. At the time I thought she was cold when she said that. But, she was right, I must have built a shrine to keep memories. I didn’t see anything wrong with that.

The pain of memories subsides with time, if you will. The only time the pain subsides is when I write my feelings into a story. It is the best therapy for me that I have discovered. I guess that means if I keep writing stories about my memories and feelings I have for Bobbie — I’ll be okay. Then I guess if drinking doesn’t kill me, her memory will. And I say that in a positive way. Thank you, Georgefor singing that song.

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