My father died today: Stoned, alone, lonely but not unloved.
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Join Date: Oct 2013
Location: Wistful
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My father died today: Stoned, alone, lonely but not unloved.
My father died today: Stoned, alone, lonely but not unloved; adrift in an storm he conjured but could not longer control. He died officially from a stomach hemorrhage, but any number of ailments could have killed him. He was 44.
A year ago he was on top of the world. After a long, dark slide, he'd finally gotten sober. He'd remarried, a lovely woman, every man's dream: trim and blonde, a dozen years younger. He'd met her 12 stepping. How I longed to be part of the family they'd created. She was young enough that we could share secrets; we were closer to sisters than step-mother and daughter. My dad was back at work. Despite his drinking and absences, his employer had kept him on. He was a talented programmer and some years ago had written a program that was critical for a major federal agency. He was one of very few people who truly understood it. In an uncertain world, it was excellent job security for an unsteady employee.
It was as if the same father I'd known growing up had suddenly reappeared. Funny, patient, always ready with the next great song. After the honeymoon, he'd promised to take me on a trip to look at colleges. But the honeymoon was over, and there would be no trip. His new wife lit out for her native Canada, alone.
I am young, but I am not foolish. I know things my classmates and teachers do not. I know many things that no girl should know. He was convinced his fall was not due to drugs, but rather his inability to maintain a steady supply. He lost his finagling doctor, and his prescriptions dried up. He'd withdrawn and stopped going to work; his new wife, no stranger to the wiles of addiction, declined to stay on the carousel, and left. He truly believed he'd found the magic formula, the perfect concoction, and all he needed to do was maintain the proportions and dosage, and he'd he fine. It was not his fault; it was due to an unfortunate hiccup in the supply chain. He explained it to me.
There was a peculiar logic to it. The buzz train would have kept running for another week, a month, a year before it derailed, as it always did. We fought about this. I yelled, as if I could scream him to sanity. I tried. You can't.
He was wearing his Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt; we were to watch the game together. I'd make cupcakes. He'd licked the icing off; it was in his mustache and beard. His head was bowed, in his hand was an unlit cigarette. I noticed his hair was thinning. I could smell whiskey on his breath. I resolved not to talk to him until he came around. I stormed out of his apartment. I would never see him alive again.
A year ago he was on top of the world. After a long, dark slide, he'd finally gotten sober. He'd remarried, a lovely woman, every man's dream: trim and blonde, a dozen years younger. He'd met her 12 stepping. How I longed to be part of the family they'd created. She was young enough that we could share secrets; we were closer to sisters than step-mother and daughter. My dad was back at work. Despite his drinking and absences, his employer had kept him on. He was a talented programmer and some years ago had written a program that was critical for a major federal agency. He was one of very few people who truly understood it. In an uncertain world, it was excellent job security for an unsteady employee.
It was as if the same father I'd known growing up had suddenly reappeared. Funny, patient, always ready with the next great song. After the honeymoon, he'd promised to take me on a trip to look at colleges. But the honeymoon was over, and there would be no trip. His new wife lit out for her native Canada, alone.
I am young, but I am not foolish. I know things my classmates and teachers do not. I know many things that no girl should know. He was convinced his fall was not due to drugs, but rather his inability to maintain a steady supply. He lost his finagling doctor, and his prescriptions dried up. He'd withdrawn and stopped going to work; his new wife, no stranger to the wiles of addiction, declined to stay on the carousel, and left. He truly believed he'd found the magic formula, the perfect concoction, and all he needed to do was maintain the proportions and dosage, and he'd he fine. It was not his fault; it was due to an unfortunate hiccup in the supply chain. He explained it to me.
There was a peculiar logic to it. The buzz train would have kept running for another week, a month, a year before it derailed, as it always did. We fought about this. I yelled, as if I could scream him to sanity. I tried. You can't.
He was wearing his Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt; we were to watch the game together. I'd make cupcakes. He'd licked the icing off; it was in his mustache and beard. His head was bowed, in his hand was an unlit cigarette. I noticed his hair was thinning. I could smell whiskey on his breath. I resolved not to talk to him until he came around. I stormed out of his apartment. I would never see him alive again.
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Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Gulf Coast, Florida USA
Posts: 5,731
So sorry for your loss! That it waiting for anyone of us if we continue on.
You have a quite a talent for writing, your story brought me right back to where I was not so long ago. Believe it or not by you sharing that, you helped many addict/alkies stay clean and sober another day and for that I thank you!
This addiction is always working on ways to bring us back.
My condolences. He is no longer fighting this devil of a disease. I pray he is in peace. I pray that you will be at peace.
You have a quite a talent for writing, your story brought me right back to where I was not so long ago. Believe it or not by you sharing that, you helped many addict/alkies stay clean and sober another day and for that I thank you!
This addiction is always working on ways to bring us back.
My condolences. He is no longer fighting this devil of a disease. I pray he is in peace. I pray that you will be at peace.
RIP Sweet Suki
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: In my sanctuary, my home
Posts: 39,870
SwanDiva, I hope you aren't taking on any guilt because you weren't with him when he died. I had a similar situation a year or so ago regarding my ex-husband. I posted about it here...
http://www.soberrecovery.com/forums/...now-stacy.html
http://www.soberrecovery.com/forums/...now-stacy.html
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Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Upstate New York
Posts: 51,537
Thank you for a beautifully written and heartfelt post. I'm so sorry you are having to endure this tragedy. I hope writing about it will give you some relief. I agree that many will benefit from your honest words - we must always remain vigilant. Prayers up for you to be comforted.
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Join Date: Sep 2013
Location: Nether-world (CA)
Posts: 205
Originally Posted by SwanDiva 
My father died today:
No one of us could offer you anything to assuage your pain, but we can express profound gratitude for such a beautifully written and heartfelt post that will help many of us here. I'm sorry for your loss and I thank you for sharing.
"One day the pain would be gone; but never the memory," Arthur C. Clarke.
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