It was a Rockwellian October morning when I first visited A.A. founder Bill Wilson’s grave in East Dorset, Vermont. The sky was cerulean blue; the tips of the towering maples were flaring orange and red; and the air was hazy from the smoke wafting from nearby chimneys, sweetening the crisp, cool autumn air.
No other soul was in the hillside cemetery that day, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find Bill’s final resting place. Thankfully, his gravesite stands out, not because it’s conspicuously grand, but because it’s covered with bouquets of flowers, stuffed animals, and other gifts left by people who, like me, have made the pilgrimage to his last home to say thank you.
If you had been with me that day, the first thing you would have noticed was how modest his headstone is. There’s no mention on it that he founded Alcoholics Anonymous or that he conceived the spiritual program called the Twelve Steps, which has saved the lives of countless millions, including my own. All that is etched on it is “Bill Wilson, 1895–1971.”
And there are letters of appreciation on Bill’s grave as well, weighted down by stones to prevent them from blowing away. These poignant notes come from parents, children, spouses, partners, siblings, and friends of people who have found a second chance at life because of the Twelve Steps and the many programs of recovery. One person wrote these words:
Dear Bill, For eight years our daughter was lost. Thanks to God and you, now she’s found. Sincerely, a grateful father
What I saw next broke me. Many Twelve-Step recovery groups have a tradition of handing out poker chip–sized brass medallions at the end of meetings to people celebrating months or years of continuous sobriety. It’s always a highlight when the chairperson asks if anyone is celebrating a sobriety anniversary, and birthday celebrants come up to receive a hug and their chip as fellow members cheer and applaud their milestones. And there, atop Bill’s headstone, were stacks of sobriety chips—marking anniversaries ranging from one month to fifty-five years—left by redeemed souls as a gesture of gratitude. And I wept.
The Twelve Steps saved and restored me to life, and I hope you realize they can do the same for you.