This part will not be a song or poem. I am writing this chapter as a means to open up. Maybe it will reach out to someone. I hope it reaches out, and opens ones eyes. I may add more to this, and then this story may eventually be classified as non-fiction.

First off, if you know someone under an encumbrance such as drugs or alcohol, don't hate them. People tend to use these substances as a way out. It could be a way to relax. They could be users because it's like a part of them is in another world. When your world feels harrowing, sometimes you want to leave into another world. Sure they are weaker, and sure they may be more obtuse, or simple minded. It does not mean, they are not a person. A person with feelings, guilt, and a soul. Sure not everyone who is an addict is a good person aswell, but in all reality many of them are, or atleast were. Instead of judging the addict that they are, try having an understanding as to why they became an addict in the first place. Did you know them before they crumbled? If not, your not really in the right place to become judgmental.

A few years or so after my dad passed I learned about a part of his past, which I feel ultimately became his great demise. It was something I never knew, or even thought of happening to him, ever. I wish I knew this earlier, I wish I could of told him, it was never his fault.

I guess when my dad was seventeen, he got into a horrible accident. He was about to graduate, and head off to law school. (Or to a college to learn law-not quite sure on that aspect). In the passenger side was his Uncle John. John was also my dad's best friend, they went to the same school, and were the same age. It turns out my dad got into a car accident. His head got stuck in the steering wheel, and he ended up in a coma. Once he awoke his first words were "Where is John?" , But John never made it. He died in the accident. Since my dad was in a coma, he was like a newborn child. He was in diapers, he had to be taught to walk. He was no longer himself, as I was told. He lost his motivation, he was empty. Once I heard this story of my dad's past, I finally understood. He lived a life of both Un-abridged guilt, and anguish. I am not sure if liquor was involved with the car accident. It's not in my place to assume, but I feel there may be a possibility, which could of ultimately made this feeling of guilt emphasized greatly. My dad didn't drink much, and would argue with my mom, when she drank.My uncle says he hit a patch of black ice. Either way, it's got to be hard, knowing that you literally drove your best friend to his grave. I still wish I knew that though, my dad needed to know it wasn't his fault. Even if he was inebriated, he was young, naive, and sometimes these accidents happen. I could never put the blame fully on him, as he never should of done.

My dad eventually left his family and everyone behind. He hitchhiked from Ontario to Alberta. He left abruptly, and with noting more then a note. The note said something about him going out West. He didn't talk to anyone for a while. Eventually he met my Mother, and well I came to be about. He did eventually get back in contact, but he took his time.

I also feel like that helped coerce him into his addiction. Once my Opa, was getting really sick, he really started to sink into a hole in the ground. I feel like he once again was feeling these convictions of guilt. He left his Father a long time ago, and now when he was dying, it was like he felt he should of never left. He should of stayed, and made memories, that he now never had.

If I knew these things, I could of reassured him. I could if told him, he helped shape his own world, a new world. He had two daughters who thought the world of him. He should of never felt unproud, of the man he came to be.

I guess I can't fully say this is what he felt. I just have a deep feeling, that is why he became so entrapped the way he did. The addiction eventually got worse, and I am sure he once again had more feelings of guilt. He knew he was tearing me apart, but he was already to weak, to change it. Instead he would just keep using, possibly easing himself of all his pains. The one thing I can say is my dad should feel proud. He should be happy that unlike him, I never became weak. Yes I have my own problems. I will never let these burdens in life get me to that final breaking point. I learned from him, and through him. Even though he broke my heart, he made my eyes so much more open. He should be proud to know, he taught me things, no teacher, no school, no book ever would.