Bravo.
I used to HATE alcoholics.
My mother was an alcoholic.
And it killed her.
Only at 40 was I finally able to see alcoholism for what it really was, and finally regain a sense of empathy and pity for those suffering.
My Dad was one of the very lucky ones. He spent the last five years of his life in recovery. Never touched a drop, and went to Glory still surrounded by a supportive family and friends. Most, however, die alone after having lost everything. Whenever he drank, he became a mean, vicious, and abusive drunk. The transformation was terrifying. Even at his worst, though, I managed to understand he had no control over it; that somehow it really wasn’t my Dad standing there. Something evil had taken hold. My heart goes out to any kid dealing with that disease.
right there with you...watched my dad die from it....i was 37....now i am watching my daughters mother....its such a shame....