It was on an October day, the sun casting a calm glow, when I heard about my dad’s passing. Even though I knew it was coming, the news struck hard and deep. It was as if, in that moment, a significant chapter of my life sealed shut forever.

The finality of it all was overwhelming, and I realized there was no turning back the clock for final goodbyes or making up for lost time.

Three years have gone by since then, and the absence of my dad is still a void in my heart.

The void has been there for longer, though. It began when I was around fifteen – maybe earlier. My dad’s journey down the path of alcohol abuse was gradual but destructive. The countless drinks took a toll on him, changing him, eroding the man he once was.

Alcohol’s impact on the brain is often irreversible, leading to cognitive impairments and memory loss. Along with the physical deterioration, the mental toll it took on him was evident.

As time passed, my dad drifted from the center of my life to its fringes. It was as if he was slipping away beneath the surface of a murky lake, and we, his family, were helpless to save him. His judgment, logic, and perception of the world and those he loved were all distorted by the relentless grip of addiction. The man we knew was fading away, piece by piece, until only a shadow of his former self remained.

1. The journey with an alcohol-dependent parent is fraught with complexities. As a child, you’re thrust into a world of adult challenges and reversed roles, where you become the caregiver.

2. The loss is multifaceted – you mourn for the present, the past, and all the possibilities that will never be. The resentment and sadness are hard to escape as you watch your parent becoming someone unrecognizable.

3. Ultimately, it wasn’t just one ailment that claimed my father; it was years of surrendering to alcohol. The gradual loss was heart-wrenching, as every drink seemed to take away a part of the man I loved.

Now, at 38, I’ve seen the harsh reality of alcoholism take away loved ones. My father was a brilliant, compassionate man with a sense of adventure and a passion for social justice. But his battle with alcohol deprived him of so much, including the joy of knowing my daughter, his granddaughter.

Living in Australia, where drinking culture is rampant, I often reflect on the societal norms that glorify alcohol consumption. Despite the apparent harm, it’s celebrated and encouraged. While moderation might be a viable path for some, the danger lies in the imbalance and the glorification of excessive drinking. It’s a culture that needs reevaluation, a shift towards a healthier balance.

As I navigate my life without my father, I am reminded of the profound impact our choices have, not just on ourselves, but on those we love. In his absence, I carry the lessons of his life – a reminder of the paths I choose and the legacy I wish to leave behind.