Every Story has "A Beginning"

My Dad died when I was 14.

That was a long time ago. Almost 40 years ago. To say he died is perhaps incorrect. He killed himself. But not in any sudden and abrupt manner. He did himself in slowly. Drop by drop...quite literally. He was an alcoholic having discovered the solace of the bottle mid-way through his life when he felt his life was not working out as he planned. I have now lived longer than my father.  When he first became depressed, he worked less and drank more. He wasn't much of a drinker prior to that.  I don't even remember alcohol being in our house.  He turned out to be a sleepy, kind drunk who would secrete his bottle in his attache case, take it with him to the bedroom, close the door, lay down, read bad pornographic magazines and drink himself to sleep midday.

I know about the pornography because I happened upon the magazines once when I was skulking around, looking for his secret booze stash in order to toss it out. We all knew about the drinking problem and I had visions of somehow saving him.  Then I found the magazines. It was a really disappointing find for a teenager entering puberty. The magazines were filled with stories.  There were one or two grainy black and white photos and lots of text. And stories. Stories so dull, I didn't even bother to read them. Apparently my Dad did. I guess he found them quite thrilling. Apparently my Dad was either a strict intellectual or so embarassed by the whole thing that he could only bring himself to go but so low.

After about two years of this, that included psychiatric treatment, pharmacological prescriptions, time with AA and an attempt at treatment in an addiction facility - he gave it up. At least, that's how I see it. His liver gave out and he stopped fighting feeling that he had nothing more to live for.

But this story isn't about me. Well, not directly. This story is about my son. Now 15, he has all manner of learning disabilities and delays, social issues and cognitive ones. He has a low IQ, poor impulse control and a short attention span. He is not autistic or maybe he is. He is not mentally retarded or maybe he is. There is no agreement in "the professional community" about him except that he is "special needs". He has commanded our attention all of his life. Colicky at birth, speech delays at age 2, motor delays and on and on. He has a file about 8 inches thick that follows him from school to school growing by about 3/4 of an inch per year.

The latest and most difficult period started about 9 months ago and is the reason for this. I am trying to make sense of it all and hope that by committing it to print, it will all somehow become clear.