They have tried to taint my memories of you, but they have failed. Stories of alcohol and abuse spewed as poison, out of their lips. Was it false? Of course not. A life of fidelity, sobriety and patience was not for you, but you remain flawless in my eyes. I find myself in your shoes now, sitting alone, in my cramped room. My whiskey stained breath pausing only to ingest more. Soothing spirits, livening my night, raising my hopes that my newly intoxicated state will fetch exciting experiences. It does not, and I reach for my empty flask.They have tried to taint my memories of you, but they have failed. You secured a place in my heart, and will always remain there. Each solitary drink now consumed in your honor, as a symbol of my appreciation. Those stories aimed to pollute my mind have served as lessons, not of your weakness, but of your strength. You have made me your saint, but in turn have become mine. "St. Michal, Pray for us." Those words hang at the neck of my flask to remind me to do as you would have me, and not follow in your foot steps.
-In memory of Tadeusz Steciuk, my beloved grandfather.
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