On 18th October 2006, I made a phone call, which led to another and another which lead to a lifelong friendship.

Pat answered that third call to the helpline that day and she set me on the path to recovery, God bless her.

Pat was the first person I met face to face in the fellowship - first meeting, I'm prowling about the car park and this scary, crazy haired woman pops her head out the door - 'Are you Bill', she asks, 'yes' I reply. @are you looking for AA?', 'yes' I reply. 'Well we don't meet in the fucking car park' and with that she turned and walked inside. I followed.

By turns she's kicked my arse, took the piss, guided me and hugged me when I needed it.

Pat died last night and I'm going to miss her. She died suddenly but she was with her partner, had enjoyed, truly enjoyed 11 years uninterrupted sobriety - she got her life together and her family welcomed her back into their lives. She repaired the damage of the past and swept away that which couldn't be repaired.

She was and in my mind still is and always will be an awesome woman. She'll be sitting with Jackie now, another arse kicker from the fellowship, maybe she's looking down on us, I don't know. I had the wierdest feeling when I was told - sad, sure, that I'll never see her again, but happy and grateful that she picked up that phone, had the courage to help another when he asked for it, had the sense to let me mess up repeatedly, was there to help me see how I could've done it better and was never, ever judgemental.

The lasting memory I have of Pat was when at the Bransley Remembrance Day parade, she came up to me and asked me why I was there. I told her I always go to remembrance sunday. Yes, she said, but why in Barnsley - examine your motives!

To catch a glimpse of my son I said. Which one is he she said - I pointed him out - she said the fierce looking young man who has seen you and doesn't want to have seen you, look at his face. You're causing harm through your selfish actions. Now, she said, go home lad. Then she gave me a hug, said I know it hurts, but now is the wrong time for you to be here. Go home, ring me later.

So now Pat, go home yourself, talk to me later. X

and yes, I can look at the one photo I've got of her and it doesn't hurt. I can remember lots of different encouters and they make me smile. I remember her hugs, her dirty laugh, her bony embrace and the soft touch of her hand on my arm, the little present she bought me at the monastery - a little prayer card with a little message she hand wrote on the back - you don't have to understand your higher power, just know that there is one and it isn't you - most of all I remember her smile - her bright, shining, far too wide smile, her outrageous dress sense, I remeber when she came into the meeting after jackie died, she was at her bedside to the last breath - to give us the news, in a clear, strong voice, with a single tear track running down her face - I remember her saying thanks to me for taking her to the monastery, and me thanking her back for coming with me.

I'm glad that the last time I main shared at the meeting she was at that I could mention that her and the rest of the coven have been a huge support to my sobriety - all without mentioning their names, but the quiet smile, the little dip of the head told me she knew who I was referring to - and I'm glad that I was able to tell her face to face that I was grateful for her friendship and that I loved her, as a brother loves a sister in the fellowship.

So, a suggestion - don't wait until tomorrow to say thank you, to apologise or to say I love you. Do it today.

Thanks for letting me share this