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Turning Points

A member reflects upon how his father's death affected him

On the outskirts of Los Angeles there's a sprawling cemetery in which my father is buried. He had passed when I was in my early twenties and had never seen me under the influence.

But that was then and this was now and I was in my mid-thirties, lost in alcoholism and chemical dependency. I knew I was in serious trouble, but never for a moment was I ready to admit that I had "problems".

On this day, I roamed the green rolling hills of the cemetery trying to locate the simple granite flat-stone plaque which marked my dad's burial site. At last I found it. Throwing myself atop... Login to read more
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