I was thirteen. I was thirteen when I found you drunk in your room as you tried to conceal the three beers you had already downed. I was thirteen when you spit hateful words towards me as I questioned your actions. I was thirteen when I ran to my sister and begged for help. I was thirteen when my sister understood what I was not yet able to. I was thirteen when you broke my heart.
Confusing explanations were thrown my way as I buried my tears into my mother's shoulder. The words "alcoholic" and "disease" echoed in my brain until I couldn't cry any more, I couldn't feel anymore. It all came together, and the pretty picture I had painted of my family shattered in my brain, each piece another drunken tale I was coming to understand. You went away, daddy. You went away for two days. When you returned, your eyes were puffy. Your eyes were never puffy. The whole family pleaded, begged you to stop. And you said you would. You agreed to two weeks of rehab and promised to be a good father. That was the first lie.
The weeks came and went, and I couldn't feel alive anymore. My hero had destroyed me, and I couldn't understand how. How you could choose alcohol over your little girl. How you could lie to me for thirteen years. How you could destroy my mother's heart and lead her to a place where she could never trust, never love, the same way. You came home, you said you were better, that you were sorry. Sorry isn't enough. Sorry was never enough.
A month passed, and you came to pick me up from the mall, drunk. You made me get in a car with you, drunk. You put me in danger, but what did it matter? I believed you, and you destroyed me all over again. You broke my heart, daddy.
Three years have passed. I am sixteen. Dozens of lies, countless relapses, millions of tears. I never understood why I couldn't hate you, daddy. I never understood why you couldn't love me enough to quit. I never understood why God chose me to bear this burden. I understand now. I understand that love is far more powerful than hate. I understand that compassion doesn't let me see the evil in you. I understand that you're broken too. That there's no excuse for your actions, but that your life hasn't been easy either. I understand that you became an alcoholic at fourteen, and that old habits die hard. I understand that God has a plan, and that he needed me to learn how to fight, how to keep fighting, through every bump in the road. I understand. I understand that alcoholism is a disease that you're fighting through for me. And that you fall down sometimes, but you get back up for me. I don't excuse your actions, but I understand them. I know you love me, and regardless of how hard I've tried not to, I love you too. And maybe it's all a test. Maybe God's showing us how strong our relationship is. You're a broken man, daddy, but I'll always be your little girl, no matter how many times we fall down.
