I always had a feeling that Lorelei was your favorite daughter, and that was completely ok with me. She was a beautiful soul, and I did believe she made you a better person. For 20 years of your life, Lorelei was your rock, your princess. But when you lost her, it was only inevitable for you to change. We all changed when she became our guardian angel. But you, Daddy, I hate to say it but alcohol consumed you. You were always a drinker— no doubt about that, but it became heavier, and deadlier. Mommy, Anna, and I tried to change you, but it’s impossible to save someone who doesn’t believe they have a problem. I hoped that the time that you got into that major car wreck would be an eye-opener for you, but when I went to go check on you in your bedroom, I found you passed out in your bed, next to a bottle of Gin and Orange Juice.
Whom never wins, and might not ever play again
You promised me you would get better, and I really was a fool for believing you. I wish I could say you tried, but you never did. Were you sober when you slept through all the father daughter dances? Or my elementary school graduation? I knew you weren’t, even when you swore you were I could still smell the heavy alcohol on your tongue. You had a problem I couldn’t solve, and I was always left to solve things for the family. You left me hopeless, when you would drive drunk even with your two children in the car. Every day, I became scared of you, I distanced myself from you and spent more time with mommy. And I began to hate it when people asked me about you.
“How’s your dad,”
I don’t know.
“You used to spend so much time with your dad, what happened?”
I want to ask him the same thing. What happened?
I know myself, my skin
Rolling stones don’t crawl back in
Daddy’s faults fell down on me
Break that curse for sweet relief
I’m glad you still call, because I didn’t have much faith that you still would. Maybe I’m cruel for thinking so, but you’ve let me down far too many times— I’ve become used to it. This has become our new normal. The same conversation between ‘How’s school’ and ‘How’s your sister?’ with an ‘I’ve finally stopped drinking’ peppered in. You’ve… finally stopped? You sounded joyful when you said so, and I want to be happy with you as well, if only I could believe you this time.
Little of heaven, little unpleasant,
I don’t know.
How can I tell if? How can I measure,
If I don’t know?