He did it every day, there was no stopping. No matter what the occasion was, he was still doing it. As much as I tried, it seemed as though no matter what I would say to him he would not stop. My whole family was hurt by this. It was an addiction.


My dad had an addiction. He was addicted to alcohol. Every day was a bad dream for my family and me. I would worry every time he left the house that he would never come back. I remember being outside waiting for my dad to get home, praying that the ambulance sirens were not for him, and praying every time the phone rang that it was not a police officer informing us that my dad was not coming home. I remember sitting, watching my dad passed out in our chair wondering if he was going to wake up. Every second I spent waiting for him to wake up felt like a lifetime.

My mom hated taking my dad to our sporting events because he was so obnoxious. He would yell at the referees, which embarrassed my mom. After my games, I remember going to meet up with my mom, looking around for my dad only to find he was not there. When I got home, he would always ask how I did and then he would complain that my mom did not wake him up.

I would tell my dad how much I hated seeing him drinking or drunk. He would always tell me, “This is my last beer. I promise.” Those words made me feel peaceful. I never knew if he kept his word because I didn’t know how much was left in his can. Sometimes, I would find a half filled can of beer in the fridge and I would empty it into the sink so he would not drink it. Doing that made me feel like I was helping him stop. I felt like it was making him have one less beer.

Being a shy child it was difficult to confront my father about his drinking problem. I found myself crying very often about this tragedy and always thinking it would never end. When I would reflect on the event I would often write my dad notes telling him that I wanted him to stop drinking because it hurt me and the family. One night I was sitting in our living room with my dad and younger brother and I was drawing on a dry-erase board and I wrote to my dad “I want you to stop drinking.” His reply, “I’m sorry, I love you Kristal.” After that little message I walked up to my room and cried for what seemed like hours thinking the addiction would never fully go away. I always felt as though I was the only one trying to get him to stop and that I was the only one truly hurt by this.

This tragedy came to a stop in the summer of 2007. My dad got caught drinking and driving. He was not allowed to have any alcohol. Almost every morning he had to go blow into a breathalyzer to make sure that he was not drinking. He got his license suspended and had to go to A.A. meetings. Since my dad did not have a license, getting him back and forth from meetings, work, and stores that he needed to run to became a pain for my family and me. Some of my family members were awakened at five o’ clock in the morning to take my dad to work. As annoying as it may have been, we realized we were helping my dad out and that he wasn’t drinking, it made it easier to take a few hours out of our lives to taxi him around.
Today, my dad does not drink at all! It still surprises me today that a man who had such a sickening addiction can stop when being supervised by the law. Our family gets along a lot better now that he is not drinking, and I feel more relaxed when he leaves the house. My dad has a restricted license. Installed in his car, is a breathalyzer that he must blow into so that his car will start. He still has to go to A.A. meetings and may never get his full license back. All of the problems involved with the drinking and driving are minor compared to how my family feels now that he is not drinking even one sip of alcohol.