A Tribute to the Man I call Dad... One Year Ago Today

In 1999 as Father's Day was on the horizon I wrote something I would like to share with you called Dysfunctionally Yours...

A sea of greeting cards awaited my perusal as yet another holiday was upon us. Father's Day, a day to honor our fathers for all that they have done for us. Oddly, not one card in that sea seemed to convey just the right words to express my true feelings for my father. Many people have no problem picking a card that drips syrupy sweet words of so much praise and thanks for dad. There is an ever growing number though that cannot bring themselves to feel right doing that.

Children of dysfunctional families might just be better off shopping at a card store named Dysfunctional Greetings, rather than at Hallmark. Where else could they find cards that conveyed the sentiments truly in their hearts?
Cards to say...
"Thanks for all the memories, late nights waiting for you to stumble home."
"Thanks for all the forgotten birthdays."
"Fighting at midnight, so enjoyable, so memorable."
"Oops, I dumped your whiskey and replaced it with water, didn't think you'd notice!"
"Sorry I forgot your birthday but I figured you would forget it too."
"Thanks for being the father I never could count on."
Dysfunctional Greetings would set a new record for sarcasm in the greeting card industry.

As an adult child of an alcoholic I faced the dilemma each year of finding the perfect card for my father. The man who drowned his sorrows in bottles of Whiskey and cheap beer daily. The man who admitted he preferred self medication over real treatment. The man who lived his life, and mine in a alcohol haze for 36 years. Inevitably I would find myself staring for minutes on end at rows of cards which were not full of my sentiments. Year after year I left the card shop with a card, usually the most generic one I could find that said basically nothing. I would pen my name to the card automatically, and stuff it in the envelope for delivery. Fulfilling my annual obligation, but not feeling any sentiment. Some days I just wanted to find the card that said, "Thanks for being the man who provided the DNA for me, without it, I wouldn't be who I am." That's what dad really boiled down to being at times, just a bit of DNA.

One year I gave up sending pointless cards and put pen to paper and poured all of my feelings into page after page of a letter to send my father. I wrote of the pain and the pride, the love and the anguish, and the good with the bad memories. I signed it, sealed it, stamped it, and mailed it immediately for fear I would never send it. Then I waited for the aftermath that I felt was sure to come. What came was a return letter, communicating the best way he knew how with words on paper. He gave me his heart and soul that day, as I had given him mine. Most importantly, he said he respected me for being honest with him. After that the letters became a regular thing, each carefully saved. No card could ever convey the feelings I had as each year passed...and the letters became our connection.


Circa 1974, Daddy and I

In March 2007, our lives were shaken to the core when my father decided he wanted to end it all. He ingested all the pills he could find in the house (psych meds for my mom and pain pills for my dad) with all the liquor he could find. He then climbed into the car in the closed garage, started it up and waited for the end to come...

The end did not come that day, fate intervened and he shut off the car, stumbled into the house and was sick. He passed out. Three days later my husband came with me to check on my father, we nearly had to call the police to get into the house where we knew he was. Where was my mom? She had left him, the catalyst that brought upon the suicide attempt. Dad does not remember we were there. I walked away that night with so much guilt in my heart, I could barely function. I knew it was not my fault but I was in a lot of pain.

April 1, 2007 my father was admitted to the hospital to start the long road of recovery from a lifetime of alcoholism. He had his first drink at age 12. I did not believe that he would succeed, I don't think any of us did. Even dad admits at that time he was only looking at the short term. From the hospital he went voluntarily into a 30 day intensive treatment program, when he graduated he voluntarily entered a 90 day program. In July 2007 he came home to learn to live life on his own without alcohol.

Tonight my father will receive his one year chip, to honor his one year of sobriety.


I have been told I shouldn't say I am proud of him, but I'm sorry I am. We all are. This is a great achievement for him. He finally did this for himself, and he is living a new life, becoming a new person. I am proud he gave me that DNA now. I am happy to say he is my father.

I no longer think of creating the greeting card company described above, and I actually found the perfect card to send my father to honor his anniversary, which he received and loved.

Happy 1 Year anniversary Dad!

I love you!
Your daughter,
Penelope Anne