About a Man Who Died Twice

After reading an online discussion that ensued when an adult child of an alcoholic posted to an advice column, I was prompted to share my feelings.  So often, the child is left without hope.  

I am one of the lucky ones, but it is not a rose without thorns.  Even a good turn of events, such as when hope actually pans out, can have its issues.

I watched my father go through the process of forgiving himself for the hurt he had caused me as a drinking man. It was an eye-opener that showed me his considerable candor, discipline and humanity, because he didn't try to blow it off. I was still mistrustful and conflicted, so my observation could only take place after the relationship had reached a point that allowed observation. 

I made him work to reach that point, and he did his penance without complaint. 

He had been sober maybe 30 years when he died. He used much of that time to be a friend, and a very good one at that. Even so, it takes a while for bitterness to end because long-term dysfunction changes a child's trajectory and potential and, as an old child - aged fifty - I had my own issues of whether I had a right to hurt like a child. 

In spite of our enormous progress, Dad's death was anticlimactic.  After all, I had already lost my father to drink so long ago.  Remarkably, his death marked the point where I could end my mourning instead of beginning it.