Rock of Ages

After a twenty-year bitter love affair with alcohol, I hit bottom. I was indulging in my usual heavy weekend binge when I received a call Sunday from my mom that my grandmother had died. We'd been very close, and I wanted to help my dad since I knew he'd be devastated. But my mom said, "What can a drunk do?" I could usually stop drinking for work on Monday, but not this time so I phoned in sick. Now I was in trouble at work. My wife was packing her bags, and my son was avoiding me. But the worst was the look of horror in my eight-year-old's face as I threw a beer bottle at the TV. She said, "Daddy has gotta get help." I looked at myself in the mirror. I was a thin, sickly shadow of my former self.