Goodbye and God bless

Today, I lost a very important person in my life.
Bert was 88 years old. While I had only known him for a little under three years – and only really well in the past year or so, I will miss him a great deal.
Bert died in hospital overnight after a short and sudden illness. I am glad about that – not that he has gone – but that he did not suffer a long and painful death. I am also glad that I was able to visit him in hospital and say goodbye to him before he went.
So how come this old man was so important to me? It is hard to put into words, but I will try and explain why.
I first met Bert almost three years ago, when I joined Alcoholics Anonymous. Bert was what they call in AA an ‘old timer’. Now that is not a slight on his advancing years or in any way a derogatory term. In fact, it is very much a mark of respect in a fellowship that looks up to those who have managed to clock up a number of years of sobriety and willingly pass on their experience and wisdom to those of us new to living life without alcohol – known as the ‘new-comers’.
And Bert passed on his wisdom and experience with kindness and generosity. He taught me that just because one no longer chose to drink alcohol – you could still have a full and wonderful life. Bert was truly a living in example of what he talked about as he did live a full and wonderful life.
My old friend also passed on to me – not just in his words, but also in his deeds – that to aspire to such a life; one has to freely give to those who want the same. He never lectured or was sanctimonious. He did not sugar coat things or make himself out to be an AA guru, old Bert just told his story.
He explained how he was not sure exactly how or why AA worked, but that it did. He told me not to try an over analyse it and to just believe. He also pointed out that just because I no longer drank, this didn’t mean that bad stuff would now no longer happen in life – but with AA I had been given the tools to better deal with life’s ups and downs.
I was also privileged to enjoy Bert’s company outside of the rooms of AA. For the past year, most Sunday mornings I would join my old mate for the 7.30 am Mass at St Joseph’s, Takapuna. He would always save me a seat right beside him and would great me with a cherry smile and witty quip like: “I wondered when you were going to turn up” – as I invariably snuck in beside him just as the proceedings were about to begin.
Afterwards, we would meet outside church and have a friendly chat. We would then wish each other the best for the week ahead and promise to see each other again at the Thursday night meeting in Takapuna.
Without him there beside me in Mass this morning there was a huge space alongside me in my pew. While Bert may have not been a big man in a physical sense – he was a huge and gentle man in every other respect.
Bert was also a World War Two veteran, a desert rat who had experienced all the reality and horrors of war in North Africa. However, he did not boast or play up his war efforts, yet I suspect he had seen and endured things that would have given him the right to.
I am grateful for the short time I had Bert in my life. His impact on me has been greater than he could have ever known. I will forever remember the glint in his eye and the kind and wise words he shared with me.
I can honestly say that I loved Bert and will miss him terribly. However, I feel the best way I can honour his memory is to try and live my life like he did and pass on my experiences to others who struggle with booze.
Goodbye and God bless my old mate.