The Dad I Loved But Never Understood

This post features the relationship I had with my father. He was the dad I loved but never understood because of his hidden binge drinking. A movie about my birth family would be The Sad House of Blended Strangers, where none of us genuinely knew the other people we shared DNA with or how to blend together and become a loving family.

Growing up in any family when the parents are messed up is difficult, lonely, and painful. Blended families come with unique circumstances. Divorces that never seem to end are involved. So, it’s more like a whisk instead of a smooth mixing at low speeds.

In my post, Generational Trauma Entrepreneur, I wrote about how I left the house nobody wanted to be in at 12 when I started working. My sister started working at Woolworth’s Food Counter when she turned 15. Wayne left a decade ago.

Where Wayne lived most of the time was a mystery. Since he was 10 years older than me, 12 for Deb, neither of us have memories of our brother being around much at the Granville Ave house. I believe his respite was to stay as much as possible with his biological father’s family member. All of us called her Gramma Jewell because she was loving and fun to be with.

In High Functioning Alcoholism, I revealed my dad’s secret. I do not know what kind of relationship my father had with Wayne, his stepson. I believe his intention was to treat Wayne like his own. My brother later in life confessed that Dad punched him in the face once. Wayne didn’t explain why. Alcohol trumps good intentions. The research finds that any children living with alcoholics are at high risk for domestic violence and neglect. You never forget the emotional pain once a parent hits you.

I only have a few photographs of us with my father. In the photo collage below, I share some happy moments. The upper left is me, my dad, and my sister attending my brother’s wedding. The upper right is one of Linda and Wayne on their wedding day. The lower left is my dad at work as Goldblatt’s Fleet Superintendent. In the lower right are Dad and Wayne with their fishing bounty.

Do you think you will ever escape the pain you do not cure head on? If you could cure yourself, you would not continue to be addicted to self-destruction. You’ll never drink it away, drug it away, eat it away, shop it away, sex it away, or anger it away.

Just like any physical illness, the pain of mental/emotional illness does not go away unless you treat it.

I believe willingness is the most powerful and healing cure because you must be willing to take that first courageous step from unhealthy behaviors to a fulfilling life. Professional counseling helps you to identify the source of pain and poisonous patterns in your life. A trained specialist teaches you how to refocus your harmful decisions so you become the manager of your life–instead of trauma’s lifelong victim.

Why Dad?

I did not understand my father’s secrecy about his binge drinking.

I did not understand why he preferred to be with alcohol instead of with Wayne, Deb, and me.

I did not understand why my father never stood up to my mom or held her accountable in any way for the emotional and physical abuse of his daughters.

I did not understand why the fear of treatment, shame, or embarrassment was more important than good health and happy days for all of us.

I did not understand why he thought it was okay to put his life, my life, and my sister’s life at risk for bottles of liquor.

I wondered if I would ever find out the whys of all the above.

The 911 Call

One evening after supper, Mom, Deb, and I were talking in the kitchen. Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw my dad walk into the bathroom and close the door. Seconds later, we heard a thud. I called out “Dad” while rushing over to the door. There was no answer, so I cautiously opened it. My unconscious dad slid to the hallway floor. Deb ran over to the neighbors across the street. I called 911 for an ambulance and my mom and I began CPR (Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation).

It was the first time I saw a life force slowly drain from someone I deeply loved, and helplessly watched my father’s face turn blue.

My dad was 57. I was 19, and Deb was 17. He was pronounced DOA (Dead On Arrival) at the hospital from a massive heart attack. It’s true. Alcoholism not only damages families but also the user’s heart and soul. As I am re-experiencing this memory to write it, I feel the shock and numbness all over again.

I wonder how different our lives would have been if only Dad could have trusted us enough to tell us about why he drank and then got help.

The traumatizing visual and heartbreak of that ordinary day in March changed four people’s lives forever. I feared I would never feel safe again. I hoped I would learn from my father’s unwillingness. I prayed that Wayne, Deb, and myself would never become alcoholics.

Life-Saving Resources

Alcoholic Anonymous https://www.aa.org

Al-Anon/Alateen https://al-anon.org

Smart Recovery https://www.smartrecovery.org

Women For Sobriety https://womenforsobriety.org

Note To Dad Wherever You Are

I never really got to know you, nor did you get to know me. It has been a life-long process to forgive, heal through writing, reading, and therapy in order to keep moving forward. My mission Tough Cookie style is to share my personal experiences to help other people move through their own trauma.

Dad, did you know if a writer/blogger loves you, you are never really gone? I wrote this poem for you shortly after you left us way too soon. I hope you are in the lasting peace you never found on this side of life.

Tough Cookie Tip: Choose love and get help. Like my father, alcohol might cause your death at a young age. If you don’t know what love is, children will show you the way. Perhaps you noticed in all my writing that I loved my dad unconditionally through his alcoholism. No matter how many times he put my life at risk or was not there for me, I continued to believe in him.

Copyright © 2022-2025 Marilyn K Fuller. All Rights Reserved.

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