He is also a liar.
My mom died in October 2020 and things will never be the same again. Many people who have lost a parent can tell you how it changes things for them and their families. It’s not just the grief you have to contend with. There is an aching hole inside of me that sometimes yawns open so wide I think it might swallow everything else up, but gradually, I've found ways to cope. I have learned to keep that hole closed enough that I can function but not closed so much that the pressure builds to an explosion.
My father has pretty much no coping skills. He is on a path to an early grave and it seems like that is just fine with him. When mom first died I didn't overthink his excessive drinking. I was drinking more too, eating a lot of pasta and cheese, and generally not making my health a priority. Over time I reined it in; I established personal goals that I felt would honor my mother and her wishes for my future (mainly that I be happy and healthy). I started working out and cooking more. I started therapy and anti-depressants. I still like wine but I don’t like being trashed.
Dad kept up his drinking — he was always saying that he wasn't hungry but his belly kept growing. I reached a point where I felt the need to confront him. I told him about ‘Drunkarexia’ which was common in my college days where, mostly young women, would skip meals so they could drink without gaining weight. It doesn't work, especially not when you’re drinking malt liquor. That was the first fight we had about his drinking. The next one came soon after when he was at my house, drinking the beer he brought with him, and he got up to leave and took the open beer in his hand with him. I told him no. He isn't allowed to leave my house and drive away with an open container. He reacted like a teenager trying to rebel against an overbearing parent. I begged him to get into therapy. I couldn't understand why he would defend drinking and driving. I didn't recognize the man who raised me. I didn’t speak to him for days but he wore me down and eventually I let it go. Of course, things only got worse from there.
His house is full of Steel Reserve 42 oz bottles and IPA bottles and Natty Boh cans. He smelled bad. He humiliated himself (and me) at lunch when he was so trashed he fell over in his chair on the sidewalk and then got angry at the man who tried to help him up. He fled across the street and drove away leaving me alone and on the verge of tears with the table full of strangers who had tried to help him. I explained he just hasn't been the same since mom died and walked home alone. I sent him a message over chat:
ME: Dad, i love you, but i am still very upset about yesterday. The way you acted was actually kind of scary and I’m still processing my feelings about it. I hope you will reconsider therapy because I truly think you would benefit from it and I hope it can help mend our relationship too. I have been working so hard to reclaim myself and my happiness. Interactions like yesterday are a real setback. I was smiling and joyful on my way to see you and i spent the rest of the day in tears. I cannot allow the work I am doing for myself and my family to be setback like this. I love you. I think you need help. Please please call your doctor and get a therapy referral and do the work to get back to being the man i know you are and always have been. You told mom you would take care of us. We still need our dad. I love you.
DAD: I will be making some calls on Monday and I love you and all of my children.
It took a few weeks but eventually, he did start up with a therapist. To this day he won’t call her a therapist and can’t bring himself to call his appointments therapy, but the fact that he went at all meant so much to me. I wish that I could say that was that, he got better and now we’re all good, but anyone who has seen addiction knows that isn't how this story goes.
Since then another year has gone by and I’ve had countless conversations with him where he was incoherent on the phone mumbling and unable to follow even his own side of the conversation. He repeats things multiple times a week, a day, even in the same conversation. It grates on my nerves when he asks me what time something is going to be because I know it won’t be long before he asks again. Any mention of his drinking as a problem is met with anger. He transforms into an angry child throwing a tantrum because someone wants to take away his bottle. He says heartless things to me and claims that I am “beating him to death” or “twisting the knife.” He asks “Any more daggers for me?” I’ve learned it’s not really worth it. I can’t withstand the pain of standing alone asking him to do better when he opens the tap of vitriol he has for me for daring to question his drinking. He thinks I’m a judgemental bitch and I think he is a cruel lying drunk. Maybe we’re both right.
Sometimes I struggle with resentment toward him because his failure to care for himself seems like it will inevitably become my task. Robbing me of what is left of my youth because I have chosen not to get married or have children. I didn’t make that choice so I would be free to take care of a mean old drunk but that seems to be the direction we are heading. My dad isn’t mean when he isn't drinking… He used to be a kind and forthright person. These days he is always drinking though so I don’t really know why I mention that. I want to ask him what his therapist says when he tells her he is still drinking and driving but I know the truth is he doesn't tell her the truth. Just like he doesn't tell me the truth. I’m not really sure if he knows how much he lies or if he has convinced himself he is still an honest man.
Today I walked over to his house to help him put up a shower curtain I ordered for him. His house stinks. He stinks. I’m used to that though. I put up the curtain for him and asked for a ride back home. It wasn't until we pulled up to my house that I looked down to see in the cup holder next to him there was an empty 24 oz can of bud light. The man isn't just driving drunk, he is literally drinking while he is driving. I shouldn't be surprised. I should be used to this by now. I have a lot of pity in my heart for him. I cannot imagine losing the love of my life the way he did in 2020. But I am so angry with him as well. It rips that grief hole I have been nurturing for my mother wide open all over again because he is making me mourn for him while he is still here. Mom would be so disappointed in him. I am so disappointed and ashamed of his behavior. I miss my mom so much and it isn't fair I have to miss my dad too when he could choose to be alive. He is choosing death and doesn't care who else he might hurt. Other drivers, pedestrians, his children, and especially not himself.
It’s been 2 years since mom died and I feel so lonely having to tend to this grotesque man who used to be my father. I wish he would come back but I’m giving up on him. I can’t keep up this cycle I feel so trapped in. I have to give up on him. I’m writing this to remind myself for next time. So when I feel more pity than pain I can look at this and at least I won’t be able to kid myself that anything will change… at least not for the better.
I keep revisiting this song in my mind:
