I remember your sickness, dad. When you continued to try and hide the fact you had one even though it’s obvious. I remember the fights. when all you and mom would do is scream at each other.

The thing I remember the most vividly is when I was in elementary school. Probably in 2nd or 3rd grade. I was getting an award. Walking into the cafeteria I saw you. I smiled and waved. As a class, we sat. and one by one the kids went up and got awards. Soon, it was my turn. I get up and walk to the stage. I stand and search for your face in the sea of people. I couldn’t find you. Later that night I called you. I asked you where you went and why you weren't there to see my awards. You told me you didn’t feel good and you had to leave. I told you, cluelessly, that it was okay; There was always next time.

But, I also remember you getting better. I remember you coming to tell me you were leaving, and yes I was sad. But you told me you’d be back soon. You’d be back and you’d be healthy.

I remember visiting you. you showed me everything. you drew me pictures and wrote me letters. you called me every night and we would talk about our day. I looked forward to it every time.
you came home and everything was like you said it was going to be. you were back and you were healthy. you found a new job. you and mom weren’t together anymore but we were still a happy family. every other weekend I was over at your house and we were always doing something. whether it was going to the beach or just watching a movie. I was so proud of you.

But, something has changed, dad. I remember the first time it happened. the night you stopped at the gas station. How you said you were stopping for cigarettes and to get some candy. How you came back with two different bags and you hid one behind the seat. It gradually continued. I started to notice you sneaking things into your room. you started to go to the gas station more and more for “cigarettes” or “candy.” tell me, what happened? Why did you start to slur your words again? Why didn’t you remember the things that happened that night before?

Is it your disease? Is it back? Please tell me it’s not the disease. I can’t stand the fighting. I can’t stand pretending like it’s not there.  

Why is it back? Did something happen? Get rid of it, please. Please. I don't want you to miss my awards again.