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        No part of this page may be printed, distributed, reproduced or used on any webpage without my express written permission. My purpose in sharing this with you is not for pity or sympathy, but with the sincere hope it will open your eyes to what children of alcoholic parents must suffer and endure.

        My father's "Castle" was certainly not a home you wanted to visit often when he was on a drinking binge. This page is not done to dishonor my father what so ever. I knew he loved me and would have done anything for me when he was sober. He told me shortly after I graduated high school how proud he was of me and how much he appreciated my being a good girl. This was his way of saying he loved me...

        I was crouched in the corner of the living room holding my little brother's hand as he cried in fear. I didn't know what was wrong with my father, but he was acting like a mad man. My mother was screaming at him to stop and leave us alone. My father had an ax raised in the air just above my mother's head, but somehow she dodged as the ax was swung... missing her by only inches. My mother ran to the other side of the room and grabbed the telephone to call for help... The next thing I remember is the police officer and some nice ladies from a nearby church coming to take us to safety. As me and my little brother got into the car, my father was being handcuffed and taken to jail. People say that most bad memories tend to fade as you get older, but this night will be forever etched in my memory.

        There were many times after that he would have these wild outrages, but my mother always managed to keep him from doing harm to us. The local police were sympathetic to her and would always respond quickly to her calls for help when he got out of hand. I recall many, many visits to the local jail house to visit my father while he was sobering up. My mother learned many tricks to keep my father from getting his booze. Sometimes in desperation, she would take all his clothes and lock them in the trunk of the car so he couldn't get out of the house and spend every dime they had on alcohol. I watched her on more than one occasion, pull all the wires from the distributor cap on our car to stop him from leaving.

        By the time we were in school, life was hard and sometimes my mother had to ask family members for money to buy food. Our school clothing was second hand passed down from cousins and family friends. We never knew from one day to the next if my father would be passed out on the couch when we came home from school. He would go for months without drinking and then suddenly begin his cycle all over again.

        One day, when my mother picked us up at school, I didn't want to go home. My father had been gone for several days and I was afraid he would be home. Instead, I asked to go visit my grandmother and aunt who lived across the highway from us. My mother dropped me off at my grandmother's house and said she and my little brother would come over shortly.

        I was sitting curled up on the couch beside my aunt watching out the window for my mother and little brother to walk over. My aunt and I watched as my little brother came to the road and started to run across on his stick horse... he never made it across. He was hit by an on coming car before he made it to the other side. I had to sit there and watch as the ambulance came and took my brother and mother away. The next thing I remember is my mother coming for me later that night and saying my little brother was in heaven with the angels. My father was nowhere to be found until the next day. He managed to pull himself together and stay sober for the funeral. I had never felt so alone in all my life. Always before, I had my little brother for comfort and friendship during the hard times, now he was gone forever.

        My first year of high school should have been a wonderful experience, but my mother developed cancer and had to go in the hospital. My father seemed to be handling everything very well and hadn't had anything to drink in months. After my mother's surgery, I stayed the night with her so she wouldn't be alone. The next day my father was supposed to come and take me home, but he never showed up. An old family friend called and said he would come to take me home. I knew something was wrong, but didn't want my mother to worry. As we drove the 30 miles from the hospital to my home, I got the full story. My father had hit the bottle full force. In his drunken state, he had fell asleep on the living room couch with a lit cigarette in his hand. As we drove up the driveway to my house, what was left of the living room couch was sitting in the front yard, the burnt remains still smoking. I walked in the house to find my father passed out in a drunken slumber in the bedroom.

        I didn't know what to do. My mother had always been there and now it was my call as to what to do with my father. Our family friend stood by my side as I picked up the phone and dialed the number for the local police department. After a little friendly persuasion on his part, they finally agreed to come take my father to jail. Many times in the next week, my father called begging me to get him out. Each time, I said no. His promises of never drinking again, were falling on deaf ears. When my mother came home from the hospital, she went and bailed him out.

        Many times over the next few years, I begged my mother to leave him. She could not find the courage to do this because she was as dependent on him as he was on the alcohol. The year I turned 21 and could make my own way, I moved out of my father's house forever. You see, I am a survivor and after all the years of living with his addiction, I had to get out... A few months before my daughter's second birthday, my father died as a result of all the years of alcohol abuse to his body.

        If you or a family member suffers from the abuse of drugs or alcohol, please consider what this is doing to your family. There is help out there for you or your loved one with this addiction. I've tried to provide some helpful links and resources below. My father never had these available to him in his day. Perhaps I would still have him in my life, if he had.