I always post this same blog on Good Friday. I wrote it years ago, but it's always relevant this time of year. Easter is hugely symbolic to me. I consider myself more spiritual than religious but this time of year has extra emotional significance for me and my family.
My Father, David Michael Evans died of alcoholism on Good Friday 2009. My Grandparents were married on Easter Saturday, my Grandmother the family matriach was born on the 13th April, my neice on the 14th and I had my moment of clarity and went to my first AA meeting on Easter Sunday 2001, setting in motion the journey to sobriety and recovery 18 years ago. Bingo!
If Easter is about death and rebirth, it's ridiculously symbolic David Michael dying of alcoholism on Good Friday and Nicholas Edward getting sober on Easter Sunday! I'm honestly not making this shit up!
I write this as a sober recovering alcoholic of 18 years. I write this as a passionate supporter and advocate of recovery. I write this as an adult child of an alcoholic. I write this to promote the education of alcoholism/addiction as a serious killer illness and family disease. It is mis-understood, largely ignored and completely under-rated. Whilst people die or spend years in misery (and I include family and friends of the alcoholic/addict too) the medical, political, treatment, social media world largely miss the true nature of the malady and problem and fail to find a solution because they have no idea what's wrong. I hope in some small way this following piece lays bare what the illness is, what it can do and the alternatives to it.
Today is the 10th anniversary of my father's death. He died a lonely, alcoholic death in a warden controlled flat in Parsons Green on Good Friday 2009. He was alone, 64, unfound for 6 days. His was a sad, alcoholic tale of life and death.
My Father, David Michael Evans died of alcoholism on Good Friday 2009. My Grandparents were married on Easter Saturday, my Grandmother the family matriach was born on the 13th April, my neice on the 14th and I had my moment of clarity and went to my first AA meeting on Easter Sunday 2001, setting in motion the journey to sobriety and recovery 18 years ago. Bingo!
If Easter is about death and rebirth, it's ridiculously symbolic David Michael dying of alcoholism on Good Friday and Nicholas Edward getting sober on Easter Sunday! I'm honestly not making this shit up!
I write this as a sober recovering alcoholic of 18 years. I write this as a passionate supporter and advocate of recovery. I write this as an adult child of an alcoholic. I write this to promote the education of alcoholism/addiction as a serious killer illness and family disease. It is mis-understood, largely ignored and completely under-rated. Whilst people die or spend years in misery (and I include family and friends of the alcoholic/addict too) the medical, political, treatment, social media world largely miss the true nature of the malady and problem and fail to find a solution because they have no idea what's wrong. I hope in some small way this following piece lays bare what the illness is, what it can do and the alternatives to it.
Today is the 10th anniversary of my father's death. He died a lonely, alcoholic death in a warden controlled flat in Parsons Green on Good Friday 2009. He was alone, 64, unfound for 6 days. His was a sad, alcoholic tale of life and death.
His alcoholic death affected a whole family, town and generation. Although tragic it inspired my Mother to go to Alanon and find recovery after a 40 year battle with alcoholism. It galvanised a cause in me to campaign for my own and other people's recovery from alcoholism as a terrible, powerful destructive disease and it has helped many people through reading this story or hearing about his demise. He has acted as a powerful example of what untreated alcoholism does.
Only a man of his ego could be born on Christmas Day and die on Good Friday! He was an arrogant bastard with a great sense of humour. Only a man of my ego could find a sober rebirth on Easter Sunday 2001. You couldn't make it up. I have taken on this family arrogance baton into sobriety. Like father like son.
I loved my father, he was my hero. A large, funny, charismatic man. But he was afflicted by the disease of alcoholism and after he left the family home in 1985 when I was 13, he effectively lived a solitary life of a drunk until he died alone, in 2009. A 24 year slow and lonely suicide. Suicide by instalments.
I share this because it is interesting on many levels. I am not owning the story to be sadder than others. Many people have tragedy and sadness in their families/past. I am not using it to puff up my ego and make a point. (at least I hope i'm not) I simply wanted to put the story of alcoholism down and how it affects a family and how in death life can begin.
It is a story of life and death, alcoholism and recovery. Sadness and light. It is a story about how David Michael Evans' life can inspire. Perhaps not in the way he thought or wanted. But in the way it was. I hope some may find solace, connection, identification or hope through reading it and have a couple of chuckles along the way. After all what is life without laughter?
I hadn't seen my father since I was 18, and then it was only for 30 minutes when my Niece was born in 1990. He had left my life when I was 13, due to his heavy alcoholism. He lived a life of a street drunk, popping up now and again. The odd phone call here, a card there. He was alive but not alive. The living dead type life that active alcoholism brings.
Only a man of his ego could be born on Christmas Day and die on Good Friday! He was an arrogant bastard with a great sense of humour. Only a man of my ego could find a sober rebirth on Easter Sunday 2001. You couldn't make it up. I have taken on this family arrogance baton into sobriety. Like father like son.
I loved my father, he was my hero. A large, funny, charismatic man. But he was afflicted by the disease of alcoholism and after he left the family home in 1985 when I was 13, he effectively lived a solitary life of a drunk until he died alone, in 2009. A 24 year slow and lonely suicide. Suicide by instalments.
I share this because it is interesting on many levels. I am not owning the story to be sadder than others. Many people have tragedy and sadness in their families/past. I am not using it to puff up my ego and make a point. (at least I hope i'm not) I simply wanted to put the story of alcoholism down and how it affects a family and how in death life can begin.
It is a story of life and death, alcoholism and recovery. Sadness and light. It is a story about how David Michael Evans' life can inspire. Perhaps not in the way he thought or wanted. But in the way it was. I hope some may find solace, connection, identification or hope through reading it and have a couple of chuckles along the way. After all what is life without laughter?
I hadn't seen my father since I was 18, and then it was only for 30 minutes when my Niece was born in 1990. He had left my life when I was 13, due to his heavy alcoholism. He lived a life of a street drunk, popping up now and again. The odd phone call here, a card there. He was alive but not alive. The living dead type life that active alcoholism brings.
You get used to the drama and chaos an alcoholic causes in a house but you just get on with it. The drama becomes the norm and that's all someone growing up in alcoholic/addict house is used to. You don't blink at arguments, police, court orders, domestic violence, fear, guilt, worry and violence. In fact normality seems rather dull in comparison.
The effect on a child growing up in this environment is profound. You don't think it of course as you just live your life, but for me it has resulted in a double life, people pleasing, dishonesty, feeling sorry for myself, feeling superior to others, incredible anger, frustration, impatience, lack of self esteem and a series of failed relationships and commitment issues. Part of me never grew up. Of course, I'm not laying the blame for my life at my father's door. My own alcoholism did a great job of that, but now that I'm 43 I can see how some of the patterns of my upbringing has affected my life as an adult. Part nature and part nurture. That can be true of many people.
When I got the call in 2009 I was shocked. I hadn’t thought about him for ages. You get used to not having a father. I called my Mum, brothers and girlfriend. I was asked by my cousin if I wanted to take care of affairs, seeing as he had been out of our lives for so long. I didn't hesitate. Of course I did. He was my father after all and it was my duty.
I made calls to the coroner trying to find out the facts of his death and piece together his life. You have to take the role of a sleuth, trying to piece together the alcoholics final few years.
I found out he lived in a warden controlled flat. On welfare for years. He had apparently been in and out of hospital for years with liver failure and host of other alcohol related problems. He had a hemorrhage in his sleep and was found dead after Easter, he had been laying dead, in his flat for a few days. Last seen before Easter, so i figured a man as egotistical and grandiose as him, born on Christmas Day 1944, probably died on or around Good Friday. Only he could do that!
The effect on a child growing up in this environment is profound. You don't think it of course as you just live your life, but for me it has resulted in a double life, people pleasing, dishonesty, feeling sorry for myself, feeling superior to others, incredible anger, frustration, impatience, lack of self esteem and a series of failed relationships and commitment issues. Part of me never grew up. Of course, I'm not laying the blame for my life at my father's door. My own alcoholism did a great job of that, but now that I'm 43 I can see how some of the patterns of my upbringing has affected my life as an adult. Part nature and part nurture. That can be true of many people.
When I got the call in 2009 I was shocked. I hadn’t thought about him for ages. You get used to not having a father. I called my Mum, brothers and girlfriend. I was asked by my cousin if I wanted to take care of affairs, seeing as he had been out of our lives for so long. I didn't hesitate. Of course I did. He was my father after all and it was my duty.
I made calls to the coroner trying to find out the facts of his death and piece together his life. You have to take the role of a sleuth, trying to piece together the alcoholics final few years.
I found out he lived in a warden controlled flat. On welfare for years. He had apparently been in and out of hospital for years with liver failure and host of other alcohol related problems. He had a hemorrhage in his sleep and was found dead after Easter, he had been laying dead, in his flat for a few days. Last seen before Easter, so i figured a man as egotistical and grandiose as him, born on Christmas Day 1944, probably died on or around Good Friday. Only he could do that!
The coroner was lovely stating that it would have been quick and he wouldn't have suffered. But he suffered for 24 years.
I went to where he lived and spoke to the warden who put some pieces of the jigsaw together, it was then the real details of the alcoholics demise were brought to life. He lived in an old peoples block for 3 years, looking disheveled and tramp like most of the time. Leaving early to go and drink with his pals on Sheperd's Bush Green and coming back late at night. He said he didn't have kids (3 of us) and had effectively blocked out his past. (I don't blame him or am angry or hurt, it's just the pain of alcoholism - imagine normal people saying how can you do that? Too painful for him i guess so much easier to say you didn't have any)
Nothing prepared us for that flat. A small place. We opened the door and the stench of death was overwhelming. The heating was on full blast, it was a mild Easter and it was just a horrible smell. Disgusting. On the left was the kitchen. Bare, no cutlery, plates or anything. Just an ironing board with a book on it. A Rebus book from Ealing hospital library and rather ironically a book on health. In the fridge was an old fish and chip dinner out of date by 5 weeks.
Then the living room. Bare. 1 chair. A guitar, Free newspapers. Hospital papers and that was it. Empty. soulless. In humane.
The bathroom. Filthy. Covered in blood on the walls and toilet. Like he had been throwing up blood for years. A horrid state,
And finally the worst room. The bedroom. An utter synopsis of the end of the road for an alcoholic. Fuck Tracey Ermin's Bed installation. If I was to do one entitled alcoholism. I would reproduce the room. It was horrifying, upsetting, shocking, sad.
The stench was horrid. There was blood on the empty bed where he had died. There were clothes and knee deep rubbish all around the room. Empty bottles of vodka, cider and High strength lager strewn around. Cheap ones. When you reach that stage of alcoholism Smirnoff and other 'luxury' brands are long gone. Blood spattered paperwork was next to the bed. Shit and devastation everywhere. It was truly horrifying. But I guess the norm to him.
I had to look for his wallet, to try and get some details. I found his trousers on the floor. And this to me sums up alcoholism for those of you who don't understand it is a mental illness with a massive ego and self esteem divorced from reality. He had a pair of chinos (shit stained) with a dressing gown cord as a belt and in the pocket of these trousers which signified someone who had given up, were 2 combs. 2 combs! Clearly he still thought he 'had it' even at the end. That is the delusion of alcoholism, and always makes me smile when i think about it. Alcoholism is tragic funny. You have to see the humour to feel the sadness.
His wallet was a typical alcoholic's at the end of the line. A slim plastic two piece Freedom pass pocket, folded in two. In it was a Freedom Travel pass, a cash card, money (fuck me can i have 25 years of child support payments please?) a recent picture of him, (odd seeing as I hadn't seen him in years, yet he looked so familiar. The arrogant menacing look, the broken nose and face ravaged with booze)
I also found a piece of paper with 2 names and numbers. One was Cathy, a woman he saw for a few years, but she left him to go to New Zealand (You have to go that far to get away form the hardcore alcoholic) and the other, my name 'Nicky (as he called me) Evans (son) and my number. I think that got me the most. Clearly it was numbers to contact in case someone found him. Like he knew his fate, Prepared for it. He carried me around with him throughout. It makes me cry every time.
I took in the scene. Said a prayer. Talked to him. We took some paperwork and left. We were all stunned. We went for a coffee and sat in stunned silence, shock and sadness. My girlfriend never knew or met him, but she was so sad to see someone end up like that. If someone who doesn't know alcoholism or know the person at all, felt a connection and sadness on seeing that - then it can have a profound effect on people's attitudes to alcoholism. My Mum was so upset as she married this charismatic man, full of life and fun and stature. She had 3 children with him, she went through years of horrific alcoholism with him, yet for her to see his final years like this was massively upsetting for her. Tragic. It left a print in time on all of our minds.I also found a piece of paper with 2 names and numbers. One was Cathy, a woman he saw for a few years, but she left him to go to New Zealand (You have to go that far to get away form the hardcore alcoholic) and the other, my name 'Nicky (as he called me) Evans (son) and my number. I think that got me the most. Clearly it was numbers to contact in case someone found him. Like he knew his fate, Prepared for it. He carried me around with him throughout. It makes me cry every time.
For me? I don't know. He was my father. My hero. I looked up to him, Sought his approval. I was his son. I was upset of course, But i guess 8 years in AA, helping lots of newcomers or low bottom drunks, going to hostels etc - made me sort of used to what i had seen. I was also there to do a job, get my father buried with dignity and organise the details. I was shocked but i think i had better preparation than my Mum or girlfriend. I felt the connection of it being my father of course, but I also saw alcoholism, the rapacious creditor claiming another life.
Those were the circumstances. A few things stuck in my mind. The warden said my Dad was funny and joking that he discovered Charlotte Church. I emailed her management team and they had never heard of Mike Evans. I'm not sure she frequented Shepherds Bush Green much, though i admire his Grandiosity.
Those were the circumstances. A few things stuck in my mind. The warden said my Dad was funny and joking that he discovered Charlotte Church. I emailed her management team and they had never heard of Mike Evans. I'm not sure she frequented Shepherds Bush Green much, though i admire his Grandiosity.
The other was my brother Rob, organising the funeral directors and getting a discount deal. Great businessman, his Dad, a born bullshitting salesman would have been proud.
At the funeral there were 8 of us. Mortlake Crematorium. Nobody attending was from post 1987. Another example of how alcoholism robs you of life. A vivid example. It was a long slow suicide. A living death. A textbook case of alcoholism. The difference between active alcoholism and sobriety can be seen in funerals. My father pursued it to the gates of insanity and death. He had 8 people at the funeral. My friend Malcolm who dies last year 22 years sober had 300. The difference is stark.
It doesn't mean they are loved any less. It doesn't mean their lives are less worthy. It doesn't mean they are lesser people. It just means alcoholism will rob you of everything until it gets what it wants in the end. Your life.
It doesn't mean they are loved any less. It doesn't mean their lives are less worthy. It doesn't mean they are lesser people. It just means alcoholism will rob you of everything until it gets what it wants in the end. Your life.
I shall end this blog with the words I spoke at the funeral as we got him cremated to the Theme Tune to Minder. The last time we were together as a family. A happy nostalgic memory before the alcoholism took over.
If anyone is struggling to accept alcoholism as a disease well what do you think the above is?. If anyone wonders why I'm a passionate supporter of recovery now you know. If anyone wonders why i believe David Michael Evans to be a powerful example in death then you've just read why. He is an inspiration for me. One of the reasons I do sobriety. The reason sometimes I'm so evangelical about the power of the disease. I don't want a long lonely alcoholic death. I don't want others to have to endure 30 years of pain. I don't want families to hide it, claim it doesn't exist. I don't want the ignorance to continue. It is real and it affects many people. It is the least understood and most ignorant disease there is.
I get messages, emails and requests from people all the time. Asking for help with their son, their partner or themselves. And you know what's most shocking? Rarely do they want to go to Alanon or AA. 'God it's not that bad is it?!!" Is the general thought.
Well, yes it is and in my experience and fundamental belief. Alcoholism and addiction is a family disease and the only true recovery from it as a family is through a 12 step fellowship. All the others are just window dressing or containing the disease. Almost like a Heroin addict taking methadone. It's just replacing. So if you have it, or are effected by a family member then for fucks sake please do not delay any further, leave your head to one side, quit the debating society and just go to a meeting. PLEASE! It may save your life. If you're willing and ready of course. If not and you think you can soldier on your own. Well, good luck but the disease wll take everything from you in stages one by one. Just see the decline of my father over many years. It's patient and cunning and baffling and the reason these 12 step fellowships exist.
Hospitals, treatment centres, therapists cant help you. They are full of shit if they claim to cure it. The only effective long terms treatment is 12 step. It even costs nothing and is fun. Fuck me it's so simple and clear most people don't want it!! We'd much rather pay £1000 a session with a professional than go to one of those dreadful meetings with those losers! Trust me, the opposite is true and the only thing keeping you out is pride, denial and ignorance. Give it a try. I implore and beg of you. Rant over!
Sometimes i don't feel good enough. Sometimes I don't know what it is to be man. Sometimes my own alcoholic ego runs away with itself or I struggle with my purpose, my journey, my soul. But in this time i felt a man. It felt right. And this year, in my 16th year of sobriety I'm starting to feel that more and more.
Death is part of life. Sad, devastating and painful. Grief has many forms and lasts as long as it wants. But it can also bring life & action. Bring people together. Rebirth and give lessons to future generations. That's how I see David Michael Evan's death. I also saw how my own disease railroaded my grief and allowed old feelings of self pity to make it last longer than usual and consume attention. I have to be very careful and brutal on myself to allow normal human feelings of grief and sadness but also the sick ones of self pity too. One must always be vigilant not to fall into maudlin defects. I see it in others but you're not allowed to call people out on social media or other forms because 'they're in grief' - I know the difference between genuine heart renching sadness and grief and selfish maudlin self pity or guilt. One must cut a severe distinction and I am lucky to have AA and a 12 step programme to give me that perspective. I'm sure Dad would have said 'fuck off you wankers' though. Fair play.
Recovery doesn't have to be sad or serious. My Dad was an insane rip roaring drunk with a massive personality. You can have this sober. You can have anything you want sober. Alcohol or drugs doesn't have to define your life and stopping drinking doesn't mean a life of dull and boredom.
You meet a lot of recovery experts around. In AA, in treatment, on Facebook. Some talk a load of shit, claiming to know answers, preaching at what we should do, leading a fake spiritual arrogant and sanctimonious life. I say fuck it. Fuck them, fuck what you are supposed to do. Be real, be human and be true to yourself. Just don't drink, don't die and don't be a c**t. Seems like a pretty simple set of spiritual codes to live by?
I often wonder what a low bottom drunk like my Dad would think of a lot of recovery models and shit being spouted sometimes so I tell myself to keep it real, keep it honest but keep it humble.
A sense if humour and a sense of fun is important. Stay clear of the experts telling us what to do. Stay clear of the doubters or negative criticism. Just read the end of his life, tell yourself is that what you want. If the answer is no then there is a solution and I went to it on Easter Sunday 2001. It works it really does and if you are a family member affected by someone with addiction/alcoholism there is also a solution for you too. Alanon helped change my mother's life it could help you too.
David Michael Evans 1944 -2009
If anyone is struggling to accept alcoholism as a disease well what do you think the above is?. If anyone wonders why I'm a passionate supporter of recovery now you know. If anyone wonders why i believe David Michael Evans to be a powerful example in death then you've just read why. He is an inspiration for me. One of the reasons I do sobriety. The reason sometimes I'm so evangelical about the power of the disease. I don't want a long lonely alcoholic death. I don't want others to have to endure 30 years of pain. I don't want families to hide it, claim it doesn't exist. I don't want the ignorance to continue. It is real and it affects many people. It is the least understood and most ignorant disease there is.
I get messages, emails and requests from people all the time. Asking for help with their son, their partner or themselves. And you know what's most shocking? Rarely do they want to go to Alanon or AA. 'God it's not that bad is it?!!" Is the general thought.
Well, yes it is and in my experience and fundamental belief. Alcoholism and addiction is a family disease and the only true recovery from it as a family is through a 12 step fellowship. All the others are just window dressing or containing the disease. Almost like a Heroin addict taking methadone. It's just replacing. So if you have it, or are effected by a family member then for fucks sake please do not delay any further, leave your head to one side, quit the debating society and just go to a meeting. PLEASE! It may save your life. If you're willing and ready of course. If not and you think you can soldier on your own. Well, good luck but the disease wll take everything from you in stages one by one. Just see the decline of my father over many years. It's patient and cunning and baffling and the reason these 12 step fellowships exist.
Hospitals, treatment centres, therapists cant help you. They are full of shit if they claim to cure it. The only effective long terms treatment is 12 step. It even costs nothing and is fun. Fuck me it's so simple and clear most people don't want it!! We'd much rather pay £1000 a session with a professional than go to one of those dreadful meetings with those losers! Trust me, the opposite is true and the only thing keeping you out is pride, denial and ignorance. Give it a try. I implore and beg of you. Rant over!
Sometimes i don't feel good enough. Sometimes I don't know what it is to be man. Sometimes my own alcoholic ego runs away with itself or I struggle with my purpose, my journey, my soul. But in this time i felt a man. It felt right. And this year, in my 16th year of sobriety I'm starting to feel that more and more.
Death is part of life. Sad, devastating and painful. Grief has many forms and lasts as long as it wants. But it can also bring life & action. Bring people together. Rebirth and give lessons to future generations. That's how I see David Michael Evan's death. I also saw how my own disease railroaded my grief and allowed old feelings of self pity to make it last longer than usual and consume attention. I have to be very careful and brutal on myself to allow normal human feelings of grief and sadness but also the sick ones of self pity too. One must always be vigilant not to fall into maudlin defects. I see it in others but you're not allowed to call people out on social media or other forms because 'they're in grief' - I know the difference between genuine heart renching sadness and grief and selfish maudlin self pity or guilt. One must cut a severe distinction and I am lucky to have AA and a 12 step programme to give me that perspective. I'm sure Dad would have said 'fuck off you wankers' though. Fair play.
Recovery doesn't have to be sad or serious. My Dad was an insane rip roaring drunk with a massive personality. You can have this sober. You can have anything you want sober. Alcohol or drugs doesn't have to define your life and stopping drinking doesn't mean a life of dull and boredom.
You meet a lot of recovery experts around. In AA, in treatment, on Facebook. Some talk a load of shit, claiming to know answers, preaching at what we should do, leading a fake spiritual arrogant and sanctimonious life. I say fuck it. Fuck them, fuck what you are supposed to do. Be real, be human and be true to yourself. Just don't drink, don't die and don't be a c**t. Seems like a pretty simple set of spiritual codes to live by?
I often wonder what a low bottom drunk like my Dad would think of a lot of recovery models and shit being spouted sometimes so I tell myself to keep it real, keep it honest but keep it humble.
A sense if humour and a sense of fun is important. Stay clear of the experts telling us what to do. Stay clear of the doubters or negative criticism. Just read the end of his life, tell yourself is that what you want. If the answer is no then there is a solution and I went to it on Easter Sunday 2001. It works it really does and if you are a family member affected by someone with addiction/alcoholism there is also a solution for you too. Alanon helped change my mother's life it could help you too.
David Michael Evans 1944 -2009
Powerful, beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteRIP David
I am sorry for your loss. I could really relate to your story. I was raised is a home where alcoholism was rampant. I left treatment on Easter Sunday in 1986 to enter into a half way for a year. I also attended meeting immediately upon entering treatment. Thank you for sharing your story.
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful story! My mother was an alcoholic and her life ended in tragedy. I, too, unfortunately became an alcoholic and didn't know it until later in life. When I hit rock bottom, I finally found recovery, and I’m glad I did. My life has been changed because of it, and it’s inspiring to read other people's stories, now.
ReplyDeleteJeffery @ New Dawn Treatment Centers