Today would have been my father’s birthday. He would have been 65. There within lie a lot of “IFs.” The biggest being IF he had not been an alcoholic who always lost battle with the drink.

But he did. He lost many battles before he was finally taken off the field earlier this year.

I was told he had been sober for 2 years, the longest time in his life in 40 years. Yet, when I cleaned out his room, I found a book bag with two empty fifths of vodka. I carry that bookbag with me everyday. It is the one thing I wanted from his estate. And really, about the only thing he had…..

I believe he was drinking far less than ever in his life, but his liver was damaged.  Excessive intake of over the counter medicine made his liver shut down and ultimately killed him. He was taking so much of it to deal with the pain that drinking usually solved.  He wasn’t eligible for a liver transplant because he had a history of alcoholism. Essentially, he was told he pissed on the one he was given. And that’s how it is.

He was just one of many alcoholics/addicts out there fighting. Desperately wanting to keep their family, their job, their sanity and health. My father had an awareness that he must improve his life, that he must stop drinking. Sometimes I think it was only out of embarrassment for his condition. Alcohol had that firm grip on his soul, on his ear–Alcohol soothed him and justified loss and failure. Kept him warm through the nights after losing wife and child.

I’ve always found it easy to forgive my father for his notable absence in my life. He was sick. Many of us have been sick, many of us are.

in 2008, I attended several teaching that the Dalai Lama offered. He spoke of the significance of life, not just measured by the totality of a man’s actions, but also measured by his intentions.

Sure, my father had a kindness, a moral character and often helped strangers. He had a deep well of love for his family that he just couldn’t express. He had many shortcomings, many failures. Had I known prior what kind of father he would be, or if I even had a choice in the matter, I would not have chosen him. The only thing I got from him was a lesson plan on how NOT to live your life.

But I know he was sick with a disease that takes one’s ability to be the person they could be. And so I offer him love. I offer every addict a prayer that they get back their sanity and their life.

I believe, too, that life is a measure of your intentions, your ability to dream, synthesize and intuit. I also believe discipline is an important vehicle.
But without it, the weight of a mans heart is no less, perhaps just his legacy.