"I love you, son," my father told me in my office a moment ago. "I know you've thought I've been hard on you and I have. You were going to kill yourself. You were dying drink by drink."
I grabbed Dad and hugged him. "Thank you so much. Thank you for caring."
My father left my office to go back to filling prescriptions. I hadn't felt so happy in a long, long time. "He loves me," I kept thinking. There was a time in my life that I thought I was irredeemable in my father's eyes.
When I was drinking and carrying on, I got a lot of feedback from my family about how terrible I was doing. It was constant. Things got quiet though when I sobered up. The accolades were few and far between. Everyone waited with abated breath about how far I could make it. I think they are now starting to realize that I am sober for the long haul.
A moment ago, I walked out and got a thank you card from the pharmacy's card rack. I am going to send dad a formal card of thanks in the mail. I owe him my life and my sobriety. Without him I would be just some nameless homeless drunk in a big city.