‘I lost my father to alcohol, but it didn’t change how much I loved him’

My earliest memories of my father date back to the times I would ride with him in the car as he went on sales calls. My dad worked for Cadbury’s Chocolates and it seemed all the shopkeepers loved him.

“Mr John, Mr John, hello, hello. Come in, come in,” they would say. I would tag along behind him.

My dad would always ask what chocolates were needed in the store, whether or not they shopkeeper required any merchandise, how the delivery of the product was — too early? Too late? In turn, the shopkeepers would always offer my father food, alcohol, biscuits and/or cakes to us so that we had something while we were out on the road. It was fun to see how adored he was.

I recall coming back from a shop one day. I felt quite nauseous and I was about to vomit in the car. We were at Centennial Park, crossing over to Oxford Street in Darlinghurst when I started. My father saved the interior of his car by offering up his beautiful coat pocket as the place where I could empty my stomach. He would always remind me of that time when I would see him.

On the weekend he would take me to the beach at Bondi or Tamarama and teach me to body surf and swim. I was great at it. I would hold onto his back and away we would go on the biggest waves with the biggest white water. He taught me how to avoid getting caught up in the white foamy waves and how not get bombed at the shore line. He knew people from the surf club and the Bondi Icebergs.

He would drive me to school in the winter months when we lived at Orange and there would be snow on the roads. My father taught me the meaning of being punctual and I am always early for nearly every appointment and turn up to work well before I’m supposed to ‘clock on’.

It wasn’t until the alcohol really took hold of him that my father lost any desire to swim or play. He became withdrawn and sad and would drink alone in the car after work. I lost my father to alcohol for a long time. However, he did find sobriety through the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and died with 10 years sober under his belt.

Those summer days at Bondi Beach were the best memories I had of him. He was generous, caring, loving and gave the best hugs, and always told me I looked beautiful, complimenting my sharp dress sense. He was very kind when he was sober. The alcohol masked his loving fatherly side. It wasn’t until I went to AA myself, that I understood his disease and was able to forgive him and forgive myself. I loved him the best.

What are the best memories you’ve had with a parent? What memories would you like your children or grandchildren to remember about you?

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