My dad was an alcoholic. Naturally, I didn't realize this as a young
kid growing up but I knew he was different from other fathers. It was
about the age of 12 that I began to associate the bottle of liquor he
consumed every night and the transformation that took place that
became his drunk personality. He was the angry silent drunk who after
dinner would go around slamming doors and arguing with anyone who
said the wrong thing. I remember my mom asking me if I wanted to go
for a drive just to get out of the house. The funny thing is though,
that in the morning he never was hung over even after consuming his
normal half bottle of Vodka the night before. He was perfectly
normal, open and articulate as he prepared himself for work. He owned
and ran an electronic wholesale business and successfully bought up
cheap southern California property when it was cheap back in the
sixties. No one knew he was an alcoholic, no one except our family.
He kicked my brother out of the house when he was 21 and continued to
emotionally abuse my mother until that fateful day when I came home
from school and was greeted by my aunt who informed me that, "you're
dad has died of a heart attack". He was only 59 but I suppose the
fast order food, drinking and smoking eventually caught up with him.
I remember the strange feeling of walking into my house and seeing
all the people who worked for him along with friends. They all seemed
to be enjoying a cocktail party. I went into my room, laid down on
the bed and pretended to be sad. My brother came in and gave me a hug
but I didn't feel anything possibly because there had been no
feelings between a son and a drunk. I've never felt anything since
about him. My brother feels the same. My mother sometimes asks me if
I ever have any good memories of dad and I reply, "No, how can I, he
was a drunk".
