Our house also has a bar - in the living room; has barstools, posters from British pubs, a bar bell from Ireland. AH would proudly point it out, saying it was the reason we bought the house. Towards the end, he would stand in front of the closet in it that held the liquor and sway, trying to pick out his next drink. It broke my heart to watch it.
The other night I had some people over for dinner. Someone opened that closet and said "holy sh**, that's obscene." There must be at least a hundred bottles of booze in there.
Sometimes these threads bring back memories that make me sad, but also so very grateful for the life I have today. Thank you.