Dear Dad,

Let me first begin by saying I love you so very much and you are one of the strongest people I've ever known; you've overcome so much over the course of your lifetime. Thank you for allowing me to write you this letter. Thank you for being stronger than addiction.

I remember being a child watching you leave for work, waiting for you to come home and running out the door to hug you every time you came back. You'd take me fishing, to school, to my friend's house and even shopping. Growing up you had to make the money since mom was so sick. I'd stay at home with her and take care of her while you took care of both of us from the road. Sometimes it would get lonely, but once cell phones became more of a commodity I'd call and tell you goodnight every night. As I began to grow up you taught me all about the dangers of drugs and reminded me of the horror stories of my other family members who weren't able to ever overcome their addictions. You taught me the difference between right and wrong, how to tie my shoes, how to drive and how to be a fighter. You always hugged and kissed me before bed, loved and cared for me, kept food in my belly and a roof over my head- who would've known? When we picture an 'addict' we never picture the father who loves his daughter more than his own life. We never picture the mother doing everything she can for her kids. We never picture regular people.

This crazy thing we're all involved in, called life, gets rough and pretty d*mn stressful sometimes. We all approach different struggles, some test from the Lord proven to be too much. Everyone copes in different ways, and, sadly, sometimes people turn to drugs like you did. I remember whenever you and mom told me you were going into rehab, I was probably the most confused I've ever been. I processed it as if you were sick, like mom. So I sent you with my brown teddy bear since you weren't going to be allowed to come home for a while. I didn't want you to be alone, but we were going to be able to come visit on certain days, especially Sundays. Sundays were family days where we could come with you to your "meetings" and give you emotional support. I understood more than you thought I did. I knew something was wrong before you told me about all of this. You weren't nearly as happy as you used to be. You were even more tired than what was typical. You weren't the dad I knew. I mean you still were, some days more than others, but overall something wasn't quite right. We checked you in October/November of 2008 and said our first goodbyes and left you to settle in and begin your 12 step program.

I was angry with you for a long time. I was angry about the things you did alongside your addiction. I was angry you'd do that to us. I couldn't understand why you would go and do something that had previously destroyed the lives of those we knew and loved. I couldn't understand why you hadn't just come to us and talked, or went to anyone in general. I know it must have been hard to watch the woman you loved whither up and die slowly over the years and still seem put together in front of me, but it was hard for me too. You've always said I was wiser beyond my years, and watching you struggle with addiction was one of the most painful things I've ever had to do. After rehab came the NA/AA programs, which I typically joined you at after mom passed away in May. Losing her was hard for both of us, but you fulfilled one of her final requests: beat addiction for me before it was too late. "God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference...Just For Today." For those who do not know, the Serenity prayer is how most NA/AA meetings are closed. So, saying it once a week every week for a year or two, you really begin to let it enter all of your thoughts. In honor of your battle, the second I turned 18 I got my tattoo as close to my heart as I could get it. My way to keep our long nights, memories and your accomplishment with me forever.

Overcoming addiction is one of your greatest achievements and it always will be. It will also always be a battle. Going to your AA meetings was something we both needed. It became a form of group therapy where we could all share our stories. "Hello, my name is Trish and I'm the daughter of an addict." I remember being so excited for Wednesday nights because that's when we would drive to our favorite group and catch up with everyone else who was a regular. Thank you for being a fighter when everyone else doubted you. I never did but many others didn't believe you'd overcome it. The first step on the long road to recovery is admitting you have a problem, and you swallowed your pride and opened your eyes to the problem and sought out help. You are so much stronger and braver than you could ever fathom being. There are so many other addicts out there who never take their first step. You opened up to me, you let me in the loop and let me stick by your side throughout the entire battle thus far. Whenever I approached you about sharing our story, you gladly approved and reminded me that their is life after addiction. You are not your addiction. Yes, once an addict always an addict, but you've put your addiction in its place. You beat this! You overcame and conquered something we never envisioned would affect us. You vanquished the purple dragon and you triumphed over yourself. You didn't just beat addiction for me, you had to defeat it for yourself, perhaps the most important aspect of it all. I am so proud of you. You're always telling me how proud you are of me; well, I'm proud of you. You are my hero. You've taught me that I can overcome anything if I put my heart and soul into it. Thank you for becoming my hero. Thank you for beating addiction.

Love Always,

Your little girl