The Alcoholic’s Daughter

My father was an alcoholic, and a drug abuser, since before I was born…it killed him before he could celebrate his 50th birthday.  Before he died, he was an 80-year-old man, couldn’t remember anything, barely could walk or go to the bathroom, he couldn’t care for himself at all.

Since his passing I have found many letters, journals, pictures…my dad wasn’t just an alcoholic, he was gay, so the pictures, a little disturbing… anyways in his journals are his secrets, his demons that kept him from reaching his goal of being sober.  My dad was in inpatient 4 times that I know of, who knows how many outpaitient…they worked, but the demons always won and in the end, it left him on the floor, with a beer, bleeding on the rug for his daughter to find that night.

My dad and mom married 2 months before I was born.  My dad was a party animal  and wasn’t around much.  My mom and him fought all the time over his drinking, he would steal our food money, rent money, etc to go party.  Disappear for days and days.  In my father’s journals he writes about how he knows he is hurting me, how he wants to protect me from his disease, but he never did. 

At 16 I told my dad I didn’t want my daughter to see him drunk and mean all the time, like I had seen him.  He told me I wasn’t a good enough reason for him to quit, those painful words still ring in my ears.  So I quit talking to him.  My dad was such an awful man, he did terrible things to me, things I can’t even admit.  When I was 18 and my father was in his last inpatient, he sent me like a 5 page letter, finally admitting the abuse he caused me when I was 6 and apologizing, for years I thought maybe it was only a nightmare, that it didn’t really happen.

My dad was great too, my best friend, I could tell him anything.  We played golf, tennis, rode bikes, had tons of fun.  I loved him so very much.  I knew he was killing himself I knew he would die.  I didn’t think I would miss him so much, that every day would be a struggle.  That I would miss calling him, going over and seeing him and most of all the delicious food he would cook for us when we visited. 

My father died 10 days after my birthday, then 3 days later I was served with court papers by my meth addicted ex husband thanks to the help of his mother.  My life is in such a tornado, every day I am unsure of what to do, I stay strong for my family because they need me to, but I really just want to cry….and cry…like I did the night I found my father, dead