Amends

January 23, 2005

Tonight I went to a meeting in which the speaker shared his story of being a drug-addicted physician. He was very direct and honest, which eventually overcame his completely distracting handsomeness. (I had to close my eyes and listen instead of look, remembering that he was as flawed as any other man. Just better-looking than most.)

I found myself overcome by memories of my brother, Luke, who was a doctor who died in 1991. More specifically, I experienced a degree of guilt and remorse for having assumed his identity (in addition to, not replacing mine) for several years after he died, culminating in forging his death certificate to make it my own, to avoid the consequences of my first arrest. It worked for 6 months, but eventually I was sent to prison for it.

Chiefly, I used Luke's credit--rather better than my own as he was a doctor. I spent the money largely in a Robin Hood fashion, and all the debts I incurred were paid in full. This, along with my certainty that I was soon to follow him to the grave, allowed me to rationalize my misdeeds. But, just as the doctor knew better than to do what he did to himself, I knew better too. Being in the throes of addiction may explain it, but it does not justify it. What I did was wrong. It was simply wrong.

And I have admitted so to my family, and apologized sincerely. I "paid my debt to society" by going to prison. But part of AA is making amends to those you have harmed, and for the first time, tonight, I felt I had dishonored my brother. And I cannot tell him directly how sorry I am. And I cannot make direct amends to him.

What I can do is put it out here into Cyberspace, which may well have a worm-hole into the Afterlife. Who knows? And I can commit to eventually making a sizable charitable gift, in his name, to, let's say, a girls' school for dalits (untouchables) in India. I think he would like that.

I'm sorry, Luke.

MCO 2005