HE WON'T MAKE A GOOD HUSBAND

“I know, right?” Nicole gushes, purposely misinterpreting my dad’s words. “How often do you get a second chance with the love of your life?”

Something like pain flashes across his face, and he instinctively touches the place where his own wedding ring used to be. Like he thinks he has the right to regret how his marriage ended.

I refuse to feel sorry for him. He chose gambling over us.

And yes, I know addiction is a sickness. I know it’s not black and white. I know sometimes addicts need to hit rock bottom before they can find the strength to get help and change their behavior.

But the truth is, the threat of losing his wife and son wasn’t even my dad’s rock bottom. No, his rock bottom was all but driving the company into the ground. That’s the thing that made him change.

I think of that old cliche about people telling the truth when they’re drunk. For my dad, he showed the truth about what mattered most to him every time he sat down to gamble. And in the end, it wasn’t me or my mom.