My Life

I loved my dad, in fact, I was the biggest daddy's girl ever. I did everything with my dad. We went grocery shopping together, I went to his job sites with him, and just basically me and my dad were attached at the hip. We spent every second of every day together; he was my best friend, and he always knew how to make me laugh.
When I was about ten or eleven, me and my dad weren't exactly as close as we had been before. I tried to convince myself that it was because I was getting older, and we just weren't seeing eye-to-eye, but deep down I knew it was because of his problem... or his addiction, as most would call it.
I remember we used to go to the lake and hang out all day. When the end of the day came, and we went back to the dock, me, my mom, and my brother would go home, but for some reason, my dad would want to stay over night. Our boat had beds on it, so he'd sleep on it. But on the weekends, we'd find out that when he stayed the night before, all he did was drink. At first, we didn't think much of it, but it got to be where he'd go straight to the boat from work and just drink. It scared us, not knowing if dad was okay and asleep or if he fell in the lake and drowned. It got worse and worse, and eventually he started drinking at home. I think that's when we realized his drinking was becoming a problem.
When I was about twelve, my dad had to go to the hospital. He'd been complaining about his feet constantly hurting and then becoming numb. I'm not sure how his drinking came into the picture, but the doctors told him he was coming close to liver damage due to all the drinking. They told him that if he didn't stop drinking in the next six months, then he would most likely die. Thankfully, he quit drinking... for exactly six months. It made me furious that he went back to drinking after what the doctors had told him. I remember that when he got out of the hospital, he couldn't walk. My mom and I had to help him with everything... when he started drinking again, all of those memories came flooding back. He always drank in the basement for whatever reason. So, when my mom, brother, and I would be upstairs, we would sometimes hear these loud bangs and then a painful grunt. We'd run downstairs to find my dad laying on the ground helplessly, unable to get up. I used to storm upstairs to my room, unbelievably pissed off. My mom would struggle to help him off the floor, you could see the pain in her eyes, her knowing the man she fell in love with was both physically and emotionally slipping away. One night, I had gymnastics, so my dad was home alone, on our way home, we got a call from my papa (my dad's dad). He said that dad had fallen and he had to drive over to help him up. When we got home, our dad was nowhere in sight, we saw that he had fallen into the window (breaking it with glass everywhere) and fell into a big potted plant (breaking the pot with dirt everywhere). We went looking for him, and of course found him in the basement drinking. My mom basically flipped out on him, telling him the drinking had to stop.
When I was either thirteen or fourteen and in the eighth grade, my dad's drinking hadn't stopped. I got an assignment in Language Arts to write a poem; it could either be serious or funny. I chose the serious route. I wrote a long poem about my dad and how I'd wanted him to stop drinking. The night before it was due, I got my mom to proof read. The poem brought tears to her eyes and she wanted me to take it downstairs to my dad for him to read, hoping it would somehow change his ways. I'm not sure why we thought this would work because when I showed him, all he said was "I'm sorry you feel this way." The fact that it didn't affect him or make him realize that he wasn't only losing his daughter, but also his family, it all just pissed me off even more. Then I met Hailey, that girl became my best friend and helped me through hell and back. She was the very first person I had opened up to about my dad. She always knew the right things to say, and she always made time to talk to me when I needed her. One night, my dad had been drinking and my mom was at a cookie exchange with her friends. When my mom got home late that night, my dad yelled at her because it was eleven at night and she had told him she'd be home at ten. It wasn't just arguing it was legitimately yelling so loud that it woke me up. I remember just sitting on my floor crying my eyes out, and listening to everything. I ended up calling Hailey, and I just sat there and cried. I told her I was going to run away and never look back. I packed my bag and everything. She talked me out of running away and she said, "Brooke let's pray." So I sat there and Hailey prayed for me, for my dad, and just for everything. That had been the first time anyone had prayed for me, and afterwards, I felt amazing, like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I think that's when I started praying every night and whenever I felt like total ****. When I got off the phone with Hailey, I got off the floor, got in my bed, blocked all the yelling out, and I fell asleep. I will never forget that night.
When ninth grade rolled around, I was sick of all the bull ****. I was looking forward to going to high school and then eventually moving out and going to college. My dad still hadn't changed his ways. He was still drinking, every night... even when I had friends over. I remember wishing every night that he would die in a car accident due to drunk driving. I wanted him out of my life for good because I was sick of him ruining it for me. Sure a part of me didn't want to lose him, but I knew that it was what would be best for my sake. I remember my mom threatening to leave him and telling him to choose between his family or the alcohol. He didn't even try to stop drinking.

To be continued..
brookeydoodle22 brookeydoodle22
18-21, F
Jan 13, 2013