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

A song he wrote R. Beresford and H. Sanders and sung by a living legend of country music, George Jonestitled, If he drinks, don’t kill him (his memory will)it means a lot more to me now.

In my case, this song was left open to interpretation of the meaning however the listener liked. In George Jones it was rumored that he experienced the song live. If the drinking didn’t kill him, the memory that did kill him was of his wife, then the late, great The First Lady of Country Music, Tammy Wynette. The song was most likely intended to show the hurt and self-destructive ways a broken relationship or divorce can cause a person who cannot deal with the disappointment of a failed relationship.

On a more serious note, my interpretation of this song is way deadlier than divorce. It means eternal pain for the permanent loss of my soul mate, my spouse, my wife and my once very happy life.

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

If he drinks, don’t kill him (his memory will)

The bars are all closed

It’s four in the morning

They must have all been closed

Based on the shape I’m in

I put my head on the steering wheel

And the horn starts blowing

The whole neighborhood knows it

That I’m drunk at home again

Choir:

And if you drink, don’t kill me

It will be a memory

I can not stand

The way I feel

With the blood from my body

I could start my own though

And if you drink, don’t kill me

It will be a memory

These old bones move slowly

But he’s so sure of his steps

As I stumble across the floor

And touch it gently

My God, there were ten bottles

Ever since I tried to forget

But the memory remains

Lying here on the ground

Choir:

And if you drink, don’t kill me

It will be a memory

I can not stand

The way I feel

With the blood from my body

I could start my own though

But if you drink, don’t kill me

His memory…

IT’S OVER

It has been almost six years since the terrible disease of cancer took the life of my dear wife, Bobby. This beat him so badly that he could no longer think clearly and was unable to control some of his bodily functions. He fought the merciless demon to the end. But like some evil crusades, sometimes they win.

I’ve always been a beer drinker. I don’t deny that. I’m an alcoholic. However, my illness was on the mend – thanks to my wife, Bobby. He hated people who drank irresponsibly. And with his attitude and conviction, I tried not to disappoint him. I failed many times in our marriage, but most of the time – I controlled my drinking.

I didn’t like drinking at home, so I drank in bars and lounges. This meant I had to drive or have a comfortable designated driver with me at all times. This was not practical thinking. As an alcoholic, who thinks about exercise? I wasn’t really a regular patron anywhere. I was an irregular patron who had to jump from one institution to another. I would get bored drinking in one place. This is what would get me in trouble with the law – drinking and driving.

After Bobby I died in 2001, I was a lost soul. I was hurting and I didn’t want to feel this kind of grieving pain. Now I was all alone and I hated it. Without Bobby, I wanted to die. My drinking came out in full force again. This earth hog saw his shadow. And that meant more than six weeks of winter. It was two and a half years of drinking pure hell. By some strange miracle I was able to keep my job, or maybe Bobby he was my guiding angel. I believe in angels. I was messy. My self-worth didn’t really matter anymore. I would drink one day and be very sick by four. This is where my progress from alcoholism led me. I would be seriously ill in bed every weekend after a binder. I wouldn’t pick up the phone or the bell if it rang.

I fell off the deep end. I’ve hit rock bottom. They cited DUI. Then I drank more. It wasn’t until two and a half months later that I stopped drinking. By believing in it God , my superior power, I surrendered my weakness. I sobered up. I complied with the penalties and obligations imposed on me by the law and completed my lifelong sobriety plan. I got the gorilla off my back once in my life. And what a weight it weighed on me. I’ve been sober ever since.

Like George Jones, I stopped drinking before it stopped. But Bobbie’s the memory lives on. Like the song, it may be his memory that will kill me. I pray for that God drinking won’t kill you. If my life ends sober, I’d rather die sober, and I have Bobbie’s remind me

I want Bobbie’s you must live, but not necessarily kill. If that means living in pain, so be it. Lord knows… I miss him terribly. I have wonderful, happy memories. Memories really can’t kill you if you live your life sober. Sobriety is a safe harbor. Memories can somehow stop you from living if you don’t move on with your life.

If someone says that life gets easier over time after a loved one dies, it really hasn’t. I mean, that’s not necessarily true. Everyone grieves differently. Human nature tells us to comfort the grieving. So what else could he say but “give it time, time will heal your pain.”

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

In my heart I know how Bobby he would not like to see it like this. He wants to see you happy and move on. I remember after my mother and aunt died, he told me many times not to make a shrine out of their memories. I thought he was cold-hearted when he said that. But he was right, I probably built a shrine to preserve the memories. I didn’t see anything wrong with that.

The pain of memories will fade with time if you want it to. The pain only eases when I write down my feelings in a story. For me, this is the best therapy I have discovered. I guess that means if I keep writing stories about my memories and feelings for Bobbie, everything will be fine. Then I guess if drinking doesn’t kill you, your memory will. And I mean that positively. Dirt, Georgefor singing this song.

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