I Was Afraid to Let Go
I HAVE tried to keep him from hurting himself since first I knew him. We met in 1929, twenty-six years ago, and ever since that time, I have tried to shield him from the consequences of his own acts. Not knowing about alcoholism in those days, I did not know that it is a progressive disease; that it never gets better, only worse. I did not realize that, in the final stage, I could not shield him from his own mental and bodily misery, brought on as a result of drinking.