Death of a Father

My father’s alcoholism broke up my family when I was 17. In the next six years between then and his death, I spoke to him only a handful of times. I was there when he was on his deathbed. At age 60, he looked like an emaciated well-known comedian, his eyes like saucers due to his wasted body. The hospice he was in allowed him to continue drinking as he only had days left. He was unable to communicate verbally.