Description

My father was an alcoholic. He died because of his addiction. Before this, our family "died" because of his addiction. I was just a kid. I loved my father. He and my mother were my lights. He was a smart, brave, admired man, by us, by all. One day, the light in my father began to darken. It got worse, day by day, month by month. He fought for us. But the addiction was stronger than him. My father became a ghost, a man to be feared, even dangerous. Despite this, he was never left alone. We continued to take care of him, in every possible way, year after year. With tears and prayers, and medical and psychological help, we battled with his addiction. I hoped, again and again, that his bright light will come back into our lives. It never did. I loved him, until the day he died. My mother is my Superhero. My father is my Saint.