Duke

Saturday I attended the funeral of a hopeless drunk who had found the solution and power to stay sober years before I met him. Duke seemed larger than life to me the first time I saw him, the last, and every time in between. Quick to smile and laugh, he was even more quick to help others. I have heard many times within the rooms that service to others is of vital importance to sobriety. So many people have said if you're trapped in your own fears and pain, find someone else to help. To be honest, I don't remember Duke saying these things much. What I saw though sent a stronger message than words ever could. He never stopped helping others. When so many that I felt I could relate to in the rooms were looking at me and saying he'll never make it Duke told me I could and showed me how. When I slipped he spoke of the year it took him to attain a month of continuous sobriety, which made his two decades without a drink all the more awe inspiring to me.

At his funeral, the movie It's A Wonderful Life was misquoted, and the man said Duke was the richest man in town. This, the man said, was a fitting thing to say, because Duke was the closest thing to a George Bailey that he had ever seen. Duke was a man who lived a life of service and was happier for it, who had so many friends from so many different walks and stations of life, who helped more people than he could've have possibly been aware of. His life made a huge difference. I would like to be around for quite some time (a feeling I am still just beginning to get used to) but when I die, I can think of no better eulogy than that. To have it truly be said that I lived a life of service, was happier for it, and helped many. And the thought occurs to me that if I want what Duke had, even in death, I should do what he did.