A Story of Alcohol, Luck, Love and a Girl Named Cheryl

As the title above indicates, this post is going to be about alcohol, luck, love and a girl named Cheryl. Intrigued? I can assure that this story will come together in a way you probably don’t expect. Stay with me if you can.

A few years ago I worked with a girl named Cheryl. She was/is a wonderful woman with a big heart and a great sense of humour. Over the years we shared a lot of good laughs and not just haha laughs but the big, crying, lose your breath, can’t even talk kind of laughs. Some of those laughs came at very dark times in my life. Although she had no idea, I was dealing with the horrible pain that is infertility and I doubt that she ever knew that the girl standing at the photocopier was slowly wasting away from a broken heart. For those laughs alone, I will always be grateful. But I’ve been thinking about other stuff today and it has brought to mind some of the quirky, existential conversations Cheryl and I had when we were supposed to be working.

One day we were talking about the nature of luck and how some people seem to have a lot of it and others seem to have none. We were both lamenting how we both fell into the latter category. However, as usual Cheryl turned it around and gave me another perspective about luck. This was her theory: perhaps her and I were really lucky, just in ways we might not know about. For example, maybe the roof was supposed to fall on top of us that day but it didn’t. That would have to be considered luck she said and maybe these kinds of things happened all the time and in fact we were really lucky but just didn’t know it. It made a lot more sense at the time when she explained it and believe it or not this is not the part of the story that involves alcohol. In any case, I think Cheryl was really stretching with her theory but it did make me think and brought a smile to my face.

Cheryl was a girl with some theories but she also had some questions. One of the most interesting and funny ones involved alcohol. Now let me start by stating that Cheryl is a girl who can hold her liquor like few others and is known to enjoy a few beers every once in awhile. I have warned Jim on many of these occasions to not even try to keep up to Cheryl and like most men he had to learn the hard way. One morning after a particularly fun night Cheryl came up with an interesting question. This is how she explained it (I’m paraphrasing):

“You know, I just don’t understand. I’m a good person. I work hard, I’m kind to others, I’m kind to animals, I pay my bills. I don’t really have any bad habits but every once in a while I like to have fun and have a few drinks. What I don’t understand is why something that makes me feel so good can make me feel so bad the next day.”

Good question Cheryl and one that leads to the next part of the story. It has become apparent over the last few days that we may be getting closer to having to make the decision that every pet owner dreads. The decision that rips your heart out and leaves you sobbing in the shower. Bowser is not doing so well and it’s breaking my heart. Jim and I got him a month after we moved in together. He’s been with us through everything and I have cried many tears into his soft, silky, golden fur.

So, this leads to another question – a variation of Cheryl’s question about alcohol. Why does love, something that feels so good also have to break your heart? Why does love have to come at such a high price? Why can’t we just love and feel good and never have to say good-bye? I didn’t have an answer to Cheryl’s question that day and I’m sure she wouldn’t have an answer for mine today. But I do know that she would understand.

I just may indulge in a glass of Bailey’s tonight, a drink that Cheryl and I shared on a few occasions. I don’t expect it to help much but it might taste pretty good. I’ll be thinking about how lucky I’ve been to have had Bowser to love. And I’ll also be trying to figure out how I might have to say good-bye.