Mike and I met in February, 1994 – pre-selfies! This photo from Christmas that year is the earliest one I can find of the two of us.

We met in AA. He was nine years sober; I was three. After several months of dating, our sponsors blessed the relationship, and we stumbled our way through learning to love each other.

Alcoholics aren’t easy to love. But we worked it out, spending nearly 30 years ‘trudging the road of happy destiny.’

Yesterday marked 33 years sober for me. His recovery helped me, as I hope mine helped him. 

Cheers to you, love.

Mike didn't love the beach as I do. It was a drinking trigger for him before I met him, so I didn't push ocean vacations for a long time.

In 2008, we spent time on Florida beaches while visiting my dad. Beachwalking was a daily activity, as was eating fresh seafood.

He was hooked.

Together, we enjoyed Pawley's Island, Hilton Head, Kitty Hawk. He ate his weight in clams, shrimp, and scallops, then walked it off.

I’m at the beach now. I saw the sunrise and turtle hatchlings this morning, and wished he was here. 

Actually, I think he is.

Mike would have been 39 years sober as I write this. We celebrated with his cousins last year, but I don’t recall that he ate cake. He wasn’t eating much of anything by then.

His sobriety birthday was more important to him than his real birthday, or our wedding anniversary. He wouldn’t have had a life had he not stopped drinking. That’s true for most of us who have struggled with alcohol. 

He often said I wouldn’t have wanted to know him as a drinker. I’m grateful we met when we did … and that we spent 30 sober years together.