“Do not drink wine nor strong drink, thou, nor thy sons with thee, when ye go into the tabernacle of the congregation, lest ye die: it shall be a statute for ever throughout your generations:” ~Leviticus 10:9

Dad drank.
He sank into a distilled puddle of despair.
And we were there, my siblings and I
to watch his decline and take notes.
As much as we despised his ranting,
his belligerence, his “Bull in the China Shop” demeanor,
we knew we would not all walk away unscathed.
We make our choices. We accept responsibilities.
And we paid the price when acceptance wanes.
There is always a price to pay for the sins of the father.
My brother paid. My youngest sister paid. And I.
And try as hard as I might, the fight never ends.
Wagons should have side rails. I crave
my sobriety, and society should understand.
Dad drank, until cirrhosis begot liver cancer.
Since then, his answers came “easily” along with regret.
His admission, a “should have, could have,
would have done things differently” refrain.
It left stains on us all. There is always a stain.


© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2014



3 thoughts on “SINS OF THE FATHER

  1. Laurie

    The stain infused with pain can always be washed away with forgiveness. The heart always knows when to let it go.

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