I felt very sad.
My father died of alcoholic cirrosis when I was 14 years old.
I am like him.
I share his humour, his laughter, his lust for life..
like him, people smile when I walk into a room..
like him I cry and give freely...
he is not here to share my success..
I know when I did well, in anything, he rejoiced..
but his alcoholic death prevented him from attending 4 of my graduations...
my wedding
the birth of his grand children
the success of his grand children
he cannot sit in the bush, listening to the night
he cannot enjoy the delight of being alive..
he cannot enjoy, me, his daughter..
and like him, I stuggle to survive..
unlike him,
I do not blame others for my problem.
I get up and try again.
but, I too feel the dreadful thirst, the demonic power, of craving.
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