I’ll never forget the day my father told me he struggled with drug addiction.
I was in the second grade.
By David Robles
Partner for Hope Marathon Team Member
I’m a husband, an uncle, a gamer, a marathoner, a passionate educator to amazing students in the 5th grade and a proud New Yorker. My father’s incredible story of addiction, persistence, hope and redemption has shaped who I am today. Growing up in Washington Heights, I was raised in a tight-knit family packed into a one-bedroom apartment with my mom, siblings, cousins, my grandmother, and an occasional special guest uncle sleeping on the couch. It was a wonderful childhood enhanced further by delicious Latin cooking, Caribbean culture, lively music, late night pranks, and above all lots of laughs and an abundance of love. My dad lived a good portion of his life in the “wilderness,” as he would say. For many years, he was homeless and relied on his resourcefulness to survive. Whenever dad visited, my mom made him sit on the staircase outside because he wasn’t allowed inside our apartment. I wanted him to come in, to experience the fun and all the love there was in our home, but my mom would tell me to ask my father why he wasn’t allowed to come inside. So, I asked him and he told me. Instantly my eyes welled into Niagara Falls. It was weird because I was so young, but I remember I didn’t feel ashamed. I was overcome with an overwhelming sadness. I felt powerless. I felt helpless. |
