Family members suggested that he should go to a rehabilitation center. Everyone agreed but not his mother….
Morning, noon and night…. His day was never complete without it. No matter how much we explained that it won’t do any good to him, he never listened.
Until…. he was diagnosed of Tuberculosis. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for his family – especially the kids.
After years of suffering, his body finally gave up. It was over!
December 22, 2005. three days before Christmas when he finally said goodbye. I wasn’t able to see him alive. The last time I saw him was 2003. He came home and asked for money. I refused. It’s not that I didn’t want to give him any. I felt bad but I’d be at my worst if I did. I knew why he was asking for it….
He’d buy a bottle of gin.
The bottle that killed him. The bottle that killed my Uncle.