“Stop drinking out of the toilet,” my father told me.
Dad taught me the important lessons in life.
He’d take me to Home Depot and yell at the paint associate. Afterwards, Dad would show me the construction workers, contractors, and day laborers, and say “those are real men,” then disappear to the bathroom for a few hours.
Usually I’d cry myself to sleep when he’d come home drunk, turn the gas stove on, and threatened to burn down the house.
I’ll never forget the lessons he taught me.
Dad never said much. But finally, on his deathbed, he told me, “if I knew it would end in type II diabetes, cirrhosis of the liver, and coronary artery disease, I would have done everything different. I never loved your mother. You’re embarrassing to me as my son. I regret everything.”