4 CANS OF BEER AND A BOTTLE OF SHERRY FOR BREAKFAST

My dad was a well-respected man, he had just finished a 22 years stint in the army, and he was in the process of moving the whole family up to Edinburgh in Scotland. My dad was a big man, he was as broad as he was tall, while serving in the army he was a heavyweight boxing champion, and he was proud of what he had achieved. The first few years in Scotland were great, we settled in like any normal family. Then all of a sudden our world came crumbling down. My mum had been told she had cancer, we all took this very hard, especially my dad, she was his life. His drinking steadily increased, this was his coping mechanism, he tried to pretend that there was nothing wrong and us kids still thought everything was normal it was dad just a bit drunk. My mum passed away in 1978 this was another nail in my dad’s coffin, he just couldn’t cope, after all the very reason he lived had been taken away from him. Don’t get me wrong he loved us kids, but the drink began to take priority. There were six of us kids and we were a handful,. My brother David had just gone into the army, he followed in his dad’s footsteps, my dad was so proud. About six months after the death of my mum there was a knock at the door, it was the military police, they came to tell my dad that my brother had died in a car accident in Germany, he was only 17. The news of my brother’s death destroyed my dad and the drinking really took hold, alcohol started replacing meals we never saw him sober. This carried on for many years, he wasted away to a shadow of that big proud man I loved. My dad ended up in hospital, and finally died of liver damage, that big proud man had met his demon, and that demon had won. Life for my dad was about family and his family was torn apart and he just couldn’t deal with that.