For the love of a daughter

My father is a respected man.

He donates money to charity and the hospital, but makes sure that I don't have to struggle as much as he did as a child. He works over time so that his patients can get the best care possible. He spends countless hours in the ER making sure situations are handled properly. He has a talent and people all over Oklahoma owe their lives to him.

He is also an alcoholic.

Let me specific. A functioning alcoholic. He's still able to be in the top of his game at his career, but how he pulls that off I'll never know.

It's when he gets home that he tends to be a little....violent.

No matter what though I love my father. But he has a serious problem.

Back when Mom was around, we had the perfect family. They were so in love and they loved me so much. The gang loved coming over and spending time with them. They were like second parents to everyone and to some, better parents than their real parents. Everything was great.

That is until a few years ago.

For years my parents had been content with having one child, but suddenly they wanted another. My parents had me young so it wasn't odd for them to try for another child, but apparently it wasn't meant to be. Mom went through a string of miscarriages. Each one tore her apart more than the last. She had never really drank before, but she began to drink heavily. She sank into a deep depression and I think even began to experiment with some drugs but I can't be sure, my dad never let me see her like that.

We tried to get her in counseling but it didn't seem to work. I've never seen my father so lost, so heartbroken. Here he was watching the love of his life fall apart. So we had to send her off to rehab. It was hard but it seemed to work. We would get updates from the facility and I even went to visit her a couple times. When it came towards the end of her stay, a letter arrived in the mail. It was from my mom. She said that she had to "go find herself" and "wouldn't be returning to us." And she was serious. She never came back to us.

I was angry and so hurt at first, but after a while I realized that I love her so much that I would rather have her be away and happy than here and miserable. I still miss her though. A part of me still hopes that someday she'll walk back in our front door and things could go back to normal for us. Of course it never happens but hey, a girl can dream.

My father didn't take it as well.

At first he was in denial.

"No, she's coming back. It was all a silly joke. That's why I love your mother, she has a sense of humor. She got better Angelica, and she's coming back to us again."

Then of course guilt.

"How could I have let this happen? I should've stopped her drinking, I should have seen the signs of depression. But I was too god damn busy to see her crumbling. God it's all my fault. I'm so sorry Angelica, I'm so sorry."

Then he started drinking more. I guess you could say we are stuck in a weird combination of anger and depression?

He began to drink away the pain. The exact same thing that she did. It was hard enough to lose my mother but then to watch a man I love and respect, fall into the same pattern? It was unbearable.

And I also discovered how angry he can get when he's drunk. At least he never gets violent until he's almost blacking out, so I don't have to experience it that often. He never seems to remember which is good. I know how much he'd hate himself if he could remember.

There are days though where he's just tipsy, where I see the father that I love. The father that I know is still inside. But for now, I'm trying to repair myself and repair him at the same time.