Any of you who have read my column over the years know that I fiercely loved my dad. But I don’t think I’ve told you that my dear Pop was an alcoholic. During my school years, he drank from the time he got home until he fell asleep in front of the TV in bed.  He wasn’t a mean drunk for the most part; he was a sleepy drunk.

Dad always thought he was hiding this. But we all knew the minute he slid open the liquor cabinet, and whenever he went to the garage to tap his “secret” stash of Jim Beam. Even our parakeet got into the act, screeching mom’s nickname when dad reached for a bottle.

My early adoration of him turned to embarrassment, shame, and yes, hatred. Although I couldn’t articulate it, I saw that alcohol was making him blank. This brilliant, charming man became humorless and prickly with his family. Alcohol erased his creativity and his joy.  When he drank, he was nothing but drunk. The rest of us had fun on the holidays, but we missed dad even though he was right there.

In 1977, dad’s liver and heart failed. He went through six weeks of hell. He was convinced that it was St. Patrick’s Day … in Czechoslovakia.

When my sister flew home from school, he thought she was Mary Tyler Moore. Mother planned his funeral, stopping just short of asking his friends to be pall bearers. We were all so weary, but mom was stoic, and a bit relieved.

Until he lived.

It took a long time for him to get back to normal, and there was a new normal. He was relaxed, funny, full of bright ideas and lots of opinions. He and mother reached an equilibrium that carried them to their 40th anniversary.

Within months of this milestone, mom died of complications from asthma. They had eight years together from the time dad dried out. He lived, sober, for another 15 years after she died.

With the holidays on the way, many families will endure the dilemma of the drunk. If you’re the drinker, give your family the ultimate gift of a sober you, even if it’s just on a holiday or two. And you might discover that it’s a gift you want to give yourself.

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 33 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.