Gregarious daddy-Monster,
the life of the party,
addicted to cleverness,
always with an answer.
Hundreds of friends.
Always involved with others.
A social butterfly.
Admired by everyone else.
He achieved physical sobriety.
Most of his spare time
was spent at meetings.
He made my mom an A.A. widow.
I welcomed his absence;
he couldn’t explode on me
when elsewhere.
I was glad to be an A.A. orphan.
Mom resented his absence,
raising three boys on her own –
not that he was much help
at home when present.
At home, he said he loved us.
But his explosions spoke a different truth.
Even when he was calm,
I knew an eruption was coming.
Nervous anticipation.
Walking on eggshells,
except when he was out.
Then I could relax.
Hundreds attended his funeral.
They spoke wonderful things about him.
But I knew the fuller story.
The others knew part.
My surviving brother and I:
we wept at his funeral,
but not because we lost our dad.
We never had a dad.
We lost a Monster.
I knew this in my heart:
never again would I be subject
to his direct violence.
– Healing Heart Warrior (Tom M.)