A man in the rum shop shouted, “Mr. Cooman, you have a beautiful daughter.” He laughed, swaying away, as I struggled to help him keep his balance.
The funny thing is that I too felt I had become a beautiful daughter by accepting him for who he was.
At 43, I had the first and last drink with my father, a man whom I loved dearly but we had a great divide between us – alcoholism. Upon the request of a friend on my way to Saint Lucia in 2012, I brought my dad a beautiful bottle of Crown Royal, a Canadian whisky. At first, I resisted getting that bottle, knowing full well that if I gave it to him, none of us would have peace in the house until it was finished. My friend said, “You must bring him something he likes.” Alcohol was the thing and against my better judgement I brought if for him.
One night, after visiting my mom from the hospital, my dad and I were sitting in the verandah and I had the sudden feeling to have a drink with him. I got the bottle of Crown Royal and I poured a drink for both…
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