PO Box 1980

I try to read as much as I can, being in jail. I was sober on the outside for three years, until December 26, 2002. On that cold winter's day, my Uncle Ed took his life because of drinking. We were a close-knit family, but my Uncle Ed and I were more than family. He was my world. He taught me to clam and fish on the Barnegat Bay, and how to be myself. I never would have thought he was an alcoholic. He used to tell me about my drinking problem, never about his. He also never told me he would kill himself. I know that I should have called my sponsor. But I called on alcohol instead and was going to end it all. Today, I sit here and look at my charges and thank my Higher Power that the police arrested me with the gun. I may be in jail, but it's better than being dead. Thanks to the "Twelve and Twelve," I am trying to live one day at a time.