“Well, you can’t kill Superman,” she remarked after being told that her father was rallying after a near brush with death. He had always told them that he was Superman. As children they half believed him.
” You can’t hurt steel, you know?” he would say as the kids tried to punch him in the arm as hard as they could.
Now he was lying in a hospital bed dying from years of alcohol
abuse. Alcohol was finally his kryptonite. He laid there weakened and yellow from liver failure brought on by too many drinks and
not enough food.
For the last five years things had been getting worse. He would rarely eat and he often began drinking early in the day. Towards the end he didn’t even get out of bed. He would urinate in a Gator-Ade bottle and defecate in a napkin held in his hand. He developed cataracts from complications of diabetes. He was going blind too.
After years of verbal and psychological abuse, most of the family had
abandoned him to save what was left of themselves. They had all begged him to stop drinking. He was losing his business, his friendships, and his
family. But he would never admit that he had a drinking problem. He
always said that he could stop any time he wanted to. He just never wanted to. He said, “If I ever have to stop drinking, I would rather die.” Now it was coming to that.
Eldest Daughter was angry with him but she also felt extreme pity. It was obvious what the addiction had done to him. He had gone from a highly respected and successful business man in the community to a lonely, wasted old man. He wasn’t really that old either. He was only sixty-two. He never got to do many of the things he had been saving for his retirement age. He never got to go to Europe. He never got to go to Hawaii. He never really got to play with his grandchildren much or tell them that he was Superman.
His wife stopped sleeping with him about five years before his death. The constant verbal abuse did not enamor him to her. He would lash out with cruel comments about her weight, appearance, ability to think, cooking, or anything that happened to cross his mind at a given moment. He would do this in front of family members, friends, or even strangers. His wife was trying to run his business, cover his tracks, and take care of him in his drunkenness while keeping up a positive attitude to the outside world.
Eldest Daughter spent hundreds of hours on phone calls for a couple of years counseling her the best she could until Mother finally mustered up enough courage to leave him. When it was obvious that his business would fail and he would not stop drinking, she left him. She had been crying every day for a year. And when she stopped she had a job, a beautiful new place to live, her friends, and a life. She didn’t speak to her husband for the next year. She laughed, went out to eat, saw a few movies, visited her grandchildren, and recovered.
Each of the family members chose a different method for coping with the situation. Little Sister had a showdown with Dad about a year before he died. She went to him and said that if he didn’t stop drinking right now and go for professional help, he would not see her or her children again. She stuck to it up until the very end when she did pay him a final visit in the hospital.
He never would admit he had a problem. Once he called Little Sister and asked if she didn’t care about how he was doing.
She said, “I know how you are.”
He said, “What do you mean.”
She said,”You’re still drinking aren’t you?”
He said, “Well, I guess you don’t need to talk to me then, do you?” And he hung up.
Younger Brother continued to visit Dad occasionally each time fighting with him over family matters, Dad’s treatment of Mom, Dad’s drinking, Dad’s failure in his business due to his drinking, Dad’s dislike of Brother’s new wife, Brother’s frivolous college career, etc. These fights never really ended but invariably picked up where they left off each time they met.
He was found by the gardener lying in a coma in the darkened back bedroom that had become his lair in recent years. At his death Brother was still fighting with Dad proclaiming to his cold swollen body how” pissed off “he was at him. He did finally get the last word. He just had to wait for Dad to die.
(First published 11/1/12)
