College Admissions Essay: My Father Died a Drunk

My Father Died a Drunk

At 4, I came to the breakfast table and saw that my father had a horribly swollen eye and adhesive tape forming a shell on his nose. I didn't know that he got those injuries in a barroom fight; I only know that I was deeply frightened and sorry that my father was hurt. This was the first of many bad memories.

At 6, I awakened to the sound of a violent argument between my father and mother. I didn't know the reason for the quarrel; I just wanted the shouting, cursing and threats to stop. I could even hear them when buried under the pillows and blankets on my bed. My father had lost his job because of his drinking.

At 10, I never knew whether my father would be sober, reasonable, even pleasant - or drunk, argumentative and abusive. On one February day with four inches of snow on the ground and a freezing rain falling, I was walking home from my cousin's house in the early evening and saw my father lying on the soggy, snow-covered sidewalk. I didn't know what my father would do if I roused him, and I was afraid to find out. Perhaps, subconsciously, I hoped my father wouldn't waken at all. I continued on, did nothing, said nothing. This I will remember with guilt for the rest of my life.

At 13, I came to hate Thursday because it was payday and I had to walk up to the shop where my father worked as a janitor, get the paycheck and take it to my mother so that it would not be spent on drink. I sensed this was demeaning to my father and I felt embarrassed.

At 15, I was at the YMCA one Saturday when my father stopped by. He was drunk. He tried to play a game of pool with me and ripped the table covering with his cue stick. Many of my friends were watching. I didn't return to the Y for a month.

At 16, the high school crowd I ran with had a party each month at a different house. How could I have that party when I never knew what condition my father would be in? Fortunately, my mother solved the problem by inviting my father out to dinner and a movie, leaving my older sister as a chaperone.