36 year-old memories

  The first fight I remember that stemmed from my Fathers addiction was when I was 2 years-old. I can remember very vividly I was sitting on my parents bed with my Mom who was trying, in vain, to get me to go to sleep. I still remember the circular pattern of the red and blue quilt that was on their bed. At some point my Dad, who I absolutely worshiped, came stumbling through the bedroom door drunk, and an argument ensued about his beer cans that were littering the yard. He was speaking with serious conviction trying to convince my Mom that his beer cans grew on the bushes in front of our house. He wasn't joking. I can remember saying by first curse words that night, calling my dad a "Son of a bitch". I had no clue what that phrase meant, but I had heard it often enough I guess I thought it was appropriate. I still remember the way he looked at me when I said it. To this day, I think it was the moment that he realized how much his addiction was affecting me.

  Aside from the alcoholism, my Dad was a wonderful Father. There isn't anything he wouldn't have done for me. I was his first child, and his love and adoration for me was evident in every picture we took together. There isn't anything I wouldn't give to change the way our story together ended. My Dad died in July of 2009 from liver failure. I was told, and still am told, that it gets easier. It's been 7 years and I am still waiting.