As Christmas comes to a close, I reminisce about relatives long gone and I can’t help but think about my beloved grandfather. My wise grandfather who would sit across the kitchen table from me and tell me about his WWII stories or his view on the world. I think of him often now because he was not always like he was when I remember him. Many years before, even before my mother’s birth, he had come back from WWII, no doubt PTSD, an alcoholic. His first wife had died in child birth with my aunt shortly after returning and I am sure his world was spinning out of control. Not that he ever used any of these as an excuse. You see, in those days, there were no excuses…you were or you were not an alcoholic. No one cared why. But those days had been behind him by the time I was born and my memories of him were not tainted. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever think that I would follow in his footsteps. Family lore has it that he drank a large jug of wine a day, eventually, not being too far from my own daily over consumption of wine. Funny how our DOCs were similar.
Grandpa told me the story more than once. I have commenced it to memory because of this, even before I had started having my own issues with alcohol. I had memorized this because I admired his courage, determination, and insight. This is why I think of him now. Because those things that I had admired in him, I seek out daily. I have had the unfortunate path that he had genetically paved but the enlightened thoughts of his fortitude to overcome it.
Grandpa never faltered in drinking his jug of wine a day. By the time he had met my grandmother, his second wife, he was a full blown alcoholic ten years her senior. Co-dependency is sometimes seen as a “martyr character” that is to be applauded in many historical Hispanic circles. Don’t get me wrong, she was an amazing woman. But grandpa would drink to black out and then pass out every night, according to his own personal accounts. After many years of drinking, somewhere in his 30’s, he had gone to the family small town rural doctor. This is a trusted doctor by my family, as well as all the townspeople. This doctor had even delivered me years later.
My Grandfather would tell me that this was a huge turning point in his life and emphasize this part of the story, becoming very animated to ensure that I understood the importance:
The doctor had told my grandfather that if he drank just one more week, he was going to be dead. My grandfather went home, took his jug of wine, and threw it as far as he could out of the back porch door. He never drank another drop of alcohol again.
As witnessed by the family, he was right. He never drank again.
My grandfather lived to be 82. I held his hand when he took his last breath in the hospital in 2003. It was such an honor. I wish I could talk to him again now that I am in his shoes. How did he have accountability? How did he get support? What thoughts were going through his mind when times were weak? WHAT kept him sober without the help of AA, TS, or other alcoholics all those years? Although I feel like he probably white knuckled it quite a bit in those early days, he is still a profound role model to me now. In the back of my mind, I know that he would be so proud of me, having a year and a half sobriety.
I know this is a long post, but this has been pressing on my mind all day. Thanks for reading. I would love to hear any other family successful family stories involving the overcoming of addiction 
Happy Holidays!! 
one day I hope to be as good of a grandparent as those before us. Thank you Sassy!!