As the empty beer bottles piled upon the wooden floor of the house I used to call home, my father dozed off slouched in the corner of the bathroom with needles aside him. When the sun rose up the next morning he began to open eyes only to feel tense pain inside his head. The second his eyelids opened he was in search of more alcohol. A man who was oblivious as to what he had lost and the damage that he had caused. No longer was this man someone I looked up to, he was someone I despised, but all that changed 9 years ago. The day he stepped into AA meetings, was the day I got my father back and a hero.

A young German woman found out she was giving birth to a baby boy, due October 1965. That baby boy was my father. Growing up, his old man wasn’t easy on him, left him scarred and with bruises on his body. His alcoholic father caused him such damage as a child, that he later fell into the same footsteps. At the age of fifteen he had already been introduced with the juvenile hall and had a record pages long. His problem abusing alcohol and experimenting with drugs followed him into adulthood. A young man with no education higher than the ninth grade, was suffering to stay clean and sober. For twenty six years he dealt with his addiction.

My father was no good for society at this point, in no way shape or form someone you could consider a hero. He physically abused his loved ones, waking up the next morning not knowing what he had done. His addiction had taken full control, to the point where I didn’t ever see him returning to his normal self. That cooled dark night, no stars in sight, the screams and cries still haunt me. A young girl afraid to lose her best friend forever, with no understanding of what was happening. I didn’t understand why we had to leave, why my father was a terrible person or know if I would ever see him again.

November 24th, 2006 was the day his life changed forever. The same day I was given a second chance to build a relationship with my father. This man is now my hero, the same man I had once despised.

As he drooped into the seat near the back of the room, he sat there listening to the stories of fellow alcoholics. His face screaming emotion and his body numb from the come down of the drugs. So agitated at the world, blaming everyone for the problems he caused. He wasn’t ready to accept his mistakes. Within the week he got his sponsor, bought the big book and began following the 12 steps, one step at a time. The second day he walked into the meeting he was handed his 24 hour coin, overcome with complete satisfaction at that moment. After months passed, he began to get into the feel of things. He knew that when he was handed a paper, that he was to read it to his peers and understand what he had read. That he was listen to every alcoholic's story and compare the similarities. And at the end of every meeting he was to stand up and create a circle around the room, holding the hands of each person who stood beside him. With that he would say, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know that difference”, followed by shaking of the hands and the words, “Keep coming back, it works!”.

As the years have passed he has changed into a phenomenal son, father and friend. Today he is an active AA goer, and does what he can to help other addicts who are suffering like he once was. Every month he drives an hour away to sit in a room filled with loud telephone chimes, answering calls from the suffering alcoholics with piercing screams that need no explanation as to why they are calling. You can hear from the shaking in their voices, how afraid they are. He helps bring them to meetings along with finding them a sponsor. Not only is he a hero to me, he is a hero to each and every individual he saves. Many of these addicts have lost hope, have lost their families and feel they have no reason to get sober. My father shows these people that it will get better, that life can be beautiful, that you must want to get sober to stay sober, that it will be a battle every single day, but everyday it will get easier.

I remember getting the phone calls. I can still feel the tears running down my cheeks falling into the creases of my lips, along with the salty taste it had left behind. The way I still hear the slurred words of his torn down voice. He wasn’t happy. From a man who was once shattered, to now a man who stands strong in his belief of staying sober. I believe that a hero is not always someone who does everything right, I consider it someone who had dealt with such pain and grown from it. Someone who can defeat such a powerful demon within themselves and come out stronger. He is my hero because he has shown me strength, determination, loyalty, love, sorrow, forgiveness and achievement. It is absolutely outstanding how someone can change from a no good human being to someone that I can now recognize as not only my father, but my hero.