March 2013: The Dad I Could Love
I was seven years sober and heading back to my home state when I was encouraged by a longtime member and close friend to look up my father. My dad and I have had a less than good relationship. For the past 30 years, we have only seen or spoken with each other a dozen or so times.
My friend knew I had to face these difficulties surrounding my father. So in the summer of 2000, I drove 200 miles away, without a phone number or address, and pulled into Bozeman, Mont. I looked in the phone book, found my father’s name and called him. He answered. When I said, “HeIlo,” he promptly...
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