I cannot shake these final images of you in my brain. Sleeping in the park, with the family dog, holding my picture close.
So eloquent. So tragic. So heart breaking.
Years of anger and hate that forced me to forget what once was. Now I know you were still alive. The disease took your mind but it didn't take your soul. I know you still cared. That some part of you was still the father I knew.
The father I watched Star Wars with every weekend. Replaying from start to finish. Over and over. Jedis. Lightsabers. Darth Vader. A galaxy far, far away. Just like Darth Vader: you were still human in the end.
This was our bond. John Wayne movies. Rio Bravo. The Duke. Going to the theater when every new movie came out. Eating popcorn, Dip n Dots and laughing at Jim Carey scenes.
You were the one that taught me how to throw my first punch. Put your weight into it, you said. Learn how to curve your arm to deliver the blow. Defend yourself like any little girl should know. Every dad's job to teach his little girl that she needs to be tough. Come on, hit me in the stomach, show me that right hook.
These memories of my childhood when you were my hero. Family trips. Disneyland, Las Vegas. Riding the Indiana Jones ride over and over until we couldn't stand straight. Getting up at 4am to beat the crowds. There we were, in the front of the line, waiting for our turn. Circus Circus. The arcade. You beat that trick game, landing the ring right on top of the bottle. Driving back to Colorado, with a 5 foot stuffed St. Bernard in the backseat.
And then the darkness came. The disease took over your brain and your heart. It turned you into a monster I did not recognize. I could not understand where my father went. Who was this person so belligerent and cruel? Where did the real person go? It is easier to feel hate.
But now I know that's not how I really felt. Love and hate are not so different after all. You have to love to truly hate.
Maybe I didn't hate you, not really. Maybe I hated the addiction you gave your life to. You chose alcohol over your daughter, your wife, your family. There's no going back from such a terrible choice. You let the beast of addiction consume yourself until you were no longer the good person you once were. Or perhaps the beast took away your choice at the end.
These final images in my mind. I never wanted this. I never wanted this final ending. So final, so abrupt, so sudden, so much suffering. No time for final words, words of anger or of love, no time for anything. You are just gone.
At least in the end, I know you still cared. That you took my picture out, in these times of dark despair, to remember what once was. At least your humanity remained. Just like Darth Vader. In the end, you were still my father.
My memories are black and white. Happiness and pain. But for the sake of our bond, before the addiction took you away from us, I will remember you how you were before. Denver Broncos, Metallica. Star Wars. The coolest dad any kid could have.
Rest in eternal peace. You are free now.
