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Like father, Like Son, Sort of

© Oran Stewart

My dad loved his vodka and orange juice up to and including the day he died, a few years ago. And it's one of my regrets that my own sobriety didn't come along early enough for he and I to renew our communication between us. By the time I was finally recovered enough and ready to make amends with him, he had become far too ill and mentally incapable of understanding most of what I was experiencing.

In hindsight now, of course, there probably wasn't much I could have done to change him or even help him and his drinking. And in my own early sobriety, I still had a big pile of anger and resentment to either unload or resolve somehow in his direction. Then, my thinking had been that, if I was able to stop drinking even after so much difficulty, why didn't he try to stop, too? Now I can see that my feelings and resentments were not chock full of logic, and are they ever?

Nonetheless, he has died and I have finally begun to forgive him, if only quietly to myself. And I might even be able to forgive myself someday for my bad feelings toward him. For the time being, at least, I've found it helpful to recall some of the good things that I remember about him, and some of the times we did have together. Sometimes I think about Dad and there are times when I miss him. When I am playing around with Carson, our yellow Lab, I think that Dad would have enjoyed this particular dog. Most Labs are very good-natured, people-loving dogs and they'll act out now and then to get your attention. Last winter, Carson must have had a spell of extreme boredom this one day. I was upstairs here at home, but my wife, Dee, was in the living room knitting and watching TV. She just happened to look out toward the dining room to see Carson prance back and forth with a bunch of about 8 bananas in his mouth, trying to get her attention and wanting to play. Her sudden burst of laughter and exclamations, "Oh, God!!" made it all the way upstairs.

Had he been alive and here at that time, Dad would have joined right in with the laughter. He had a pretty good laugh that could echo with his deep bass singing voice. Certainly, Carson is the dog of my family, my wife and teenaged son, so I can only imagine, fantasize on whatever effect Carson might have had on Dad. Maybe having such a fantasy isn't worth as much as pocket change, but for me it does add to the warmth of old memories.

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