There are many alcoholics in my family, it is not nice to say but I know it is the truth. I have grown up around my share of family affairs where the kids drink punch and have to be in the house by 8 o'clock so the grown folks can party and play cards. I use to believe that drinking was all fun and games, something people did when they wanted to engage in simple social activity. I kept this theory until my father became a stone cold alcoholic after he and my mother got divorced. My dad started by just drinking on occasion with my grandpa and uncles. After my mom, he began to drink all the time. He slowly transitioned from a light malt beverage to getting to know Jack, Paul, and the Christian brothers very well. My sisters and I went through that empty promises stage until my dad eventually stopped calling us and spending all of his free time at the bar three blocks down from our house. My mom tried her best to keep us happy but she knew it was not the same without our dad being around. Although they were no longer married, I expected my dad to still be around all the time. My sister took my dad's alcohol problem the hardest out of all three of us. My dad was her hero, seeing him depressed and crying all the time made her change her mind about how she further viewed him. I had to stay strong for my dad because I was the oldest. After my dad got his new apartment and was able to keep us on the weekends, I found myself often staying awake to make sure he made it in the house safely after a night out with the boys. The hardest part for me was when my father began to ask me questions like who I was, and why was I in his house. After years of drinking, my father began to gain weight and loose his memory slowly. He changed from being the dad who always wanted quality time to the dad who needed more time alone. His health started to deteriorate and he began to stay sick all the time. By now, I was beginning to slip ...