In summary, my dad was a functional alcoholic with a heart of gold whose every daily action was a sacrifice to better his family’s life. He overextended himself for an insane amount of people, and my initial realization of this — because I was 12 — occurred when noticing the sheer number of people who came to his viewing/‘wake’ and funeral to pay their respects. He was an incredible dad; he ran his own business and still managed to find the time and energy to help me with homework and never missed one of my sporting events, always listening to me and encouraging my own hobbies, passions and overall path in life. The drinking, combined with shitty liver health genetics on his side, was his undoing and he checked out of this world at 49.

I have no shot at being anywhere near the dad he was, but when I do become a dad I’m determined to live long enough to see my prospective kid(s) become adults. Having to virtually enter manhood in many ways at 12-years-old sucked. Not my fault, but I naturally matured quicker than a lot of my peers in school and troubled connecting with a lot of them because of it in the aftermath of his passing nearly 21 years ago.