After losing her father to alcohol addiction, author Sophie Calon turned to writing – and found clarity, connection and hope in other stories of relapse and recovery
On the night of Boxing Day 2021, my dad’s body was found near a Cardiff hostel. His death, at 55, was as sudden as it was not. For years, alcoholism had been changing the shape of his heart.
He died less than a mile from his old office; top law firm, equity partner. Four miles from our once tight-knit home in a leafy neighbourhood. He had lost both his family and his job in 2019. Raised in Barry, working class, he had been proud of the beautiful life he had built for us. Others thought he “had it all”. He was widely adored, but drinking made him volatile. He was homeless and often behind bars in his final two years.
I saw my dad for the last time in the spring of 2019, just before I moved to Australia. I was no longer able to bear the distress and chaos caused by his addiction. From then on I saw him only in photos: an article about homeless people getting Christmas dinner; the police’s missing-person appeals. Where had my caring, clever dad gone?
I never spoke about his drinking. It seemed disloyal, then gloomy, then futile. He had been one of my closest friends. It was only after losing him for good that I realised I wanted others to know him. This came through writing, which I began compulsively the morning after the news. It’s what I do to keep my mind steady. I was five when my dad sat me down to write about an event that had shaken me: my brother’s first epileptic seizure in 1999. It was a lesson in how finding the words could help in the face of unthinkable things.
