Until I turned 20, I never once saw my dad sober and clean a day in my life. By then, he had developed health problems (strokes, heart surgeries, etc.) due to complications from years of being an active drinker. He was hospitalized for about two years, during which time he found some recovery; when he came home, he maintained his sobriety through various programs.

I always had so much shame, disrespect, anger, and disappointment for him. I remember feeling horrible inside because I truly didn’t love my dad when I was young. I didn’t know him—the real him buried in the disease.

He was always nice to me. He never raised his voice or hand to me, but he was never a parent either. He was never there for me emotionally, spiritually, or even physically, most times. I know now that he hid the worst of his disease by being absent in my life. As I child, I couldn’t figure out if his niceness was really him or just an act. I just never connected with him in any way at all. It was as if he was out of reach, untouchable on any level, as far as I was concerned.

During the first five years of his recovery, I very slowly started to build a friendship with him. For the first time in my life, I got to know the man that my father was. One day I realized that my dad and I never said “I love you” to one another. (My family says that a lot). I was a little hurt at this realization until I thought, “Well, maybe he doesn’t know how, after all he was an active drinker since he was 14 years old.” Despite my own fear, one day on the phone, I told him that I loved him. There was dead silence on his end and he said, “Okay, goodbye.”

I remember sitting there expecting to be hurt, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was free from all my shame, resentment, and anger. I finally got to know my dad and could honestly admit to him and myself that I loved him. That made everything okay for me. That’s where I found my amends; and it didn’t matter what his response was. He ended up calling me back a minute later. He was crying, “I’m sorry, I meant to tell you I love you, too!” We now say we love each other every time we talk.

He’s been sober and clean for 15 years now. I’m grateful for everyday that I have with him—the real him, the man behind the disease whom I have come to love so much. I never would have thought an amends could be found in those three words, “I love you.”

By Dorothy A., Massachusetts
The Forum, February 2012

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