Today is part five of the Restoration series. If you are just now tuning in, you can get caught up here: 
The Beginning of Restoration
She Really Answered – Part Two of the Restoration Series
Finally We Meet – Part Three of the Restoration Series
Necessary Memories Exposed – Part Four of the Restoration Series
I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded my head and continued to listen. My heart was dying inside and I was trying everything I could to pretend like I hadn’t heard what she was saying.
If only that would have been the worst of it.
Have you ever known the truth deep inside, but the depth of denial just wouldn’t allow you to let the truth in? I am realizing that I have been in this stage for two years now. This stage of denial is coming to an end and to be honest,
I hate it…
There are some things I want to keep private to honor our conversation, but here is the sum. Though I will never be 100% sure, because only God and my dad know, I am 98.9% sure that my dad didn’t die from cancer. He didn’t die from a bad heart. He didn’t die from the fluid on his lungs. He didn’t die from aspirating.
He died from a drug overdose – a legal drug overdose. 
God must have known I didn’t need this truth until now. But it still sucks. It hurts. I’m angry. I’m heartbroken. I’m overwhelmed with truth.
I find myself being so angry with him. He had a second chance at life and he blew it. Again. 
He won’t walk me down the aisle at my wedding. He won’t be there to celebrate my first book being published. He won’t be there when I receive my degree. He wasn’t there to see my weight loss. He wasn’t there to see me complete the Table Rock Freedom Center. Why?
Because of an addiction. 
Because he never chose to deal with his problems.
Because he chose to die a victim of circumstances.
Because he never took responsibility.
Because in the end, it was still about him, whether he realized it or not.
My dad died a sick man. Sick with cancer. Sick with fluid on his lungs. Sick with a feeding tube in his stomach. My dad was sick with a broken heart that he never tried to heal. It killed him. He used medicine intended to help him. Instead, it took his life.
I know that he loved me. I know that he would never want to hurt me on purpose. But does that make it easier?
Not necessarily. 
Do you know what I have left of my dad? A few pictures, a fishing pole, some marble collectibles, and many memories surrounded by addiction that I would like to forget.
Joyce Meyer says, “Hurting people hurt people.” She’s right.
My own addictions hurt people deeply. More than just me.
If you are struggling right now, with whatever it is, please read this blog again. Make it sink in. Play the movie out. What will happen in the end?
Addiction is just a symptom of a deeper problem. 
My dad chose to avoid the deeper problems. It killed him. What will you choose to do today?
To be continued…
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