Tomorrow marks a day that will undoubtedly fucking suck. (See how I threw an F-bomb in there so you wouldn't be disappointed?) If I didn't have the kid, I'd already have planned some activity to take my thoughts away and make the hours pass as quickly as possible. However, I now have adult responsibilities, and no longer have the pleasure of wallowing in pity, misery and grief for 24-hour stretches. Tomorrow would have been my dad's 58th birthday.
Would have been. Damnit I hate those words. I have to use them far too often when talking (thinking) about my dad. He would have been at my wedding. He would have been there waiting for the kid to be born. He would have come to visit us on her birthday. He would have been there when I came out of lifesaving surgery nearly a year ago. But he is not. He never will be. And that is the most unfair thing in the whole damn world. He isn't gone on vacation. He isn't coming home. He isn't. That makes me so fucking mad.
If you've read this far, it doesn't take much of an IQ to figure out my dad is dead. Dead. Passed on. Deceased. All those ugly words you never want to say or hear. Just reading them now, you probably had a little internal cringe. Usually, if I have to speak about my dad, I just say he's "gone", and trail my voice off a little, letting people know not to ask more. I don't like talking about it. Even my own husband doesn't know all of the details. But I am sure that no matter how compassionate a person you may be, there is a little tiny part of you that wants to know how. Admit it to yourself. It is a natural reaction. You hear: "Cousin Sally's neighbor passed." You counter with: "Oh, that's so sad. How did she die?" I won't begrudge you a little human nature. In fact, to some extent, sharing the "how" is why I am writing this post. So here it is.
He committed suicide.
No, I will not go into the details. Any suicide is horrific, whether by overdose, self-inflicted injury, intentional vehicular accident, etc.
I am a suicide survivor. And talking about it is the only way I can help other survivors, or people who may be considering taking their own lives. According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (www.afsp.org), in the US someone commits suicide every 16 minutes, and every 17 minutes someone is left wondering why. I will always wonder why. I will always be left with this hole in my heart. Some days that hole is bigger than others. Today, all of me is that hole. When he made the decision to leave me behind, it broke my heart, and I don't know if I will ever heal. The pain is unfathomable to anyone who has not experienced this kind of loss. I hope that no one else will ever know what I am feeling. Sometimes, it is unbearable. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever overcome it, or if I will always feel this way. I have good days, too, but right now it's hard to remember what those are like, even though they happen often. It is a proverbial rollercoaster of emotion from one day to the next, but always you feel that a part of your life is missing.
It's difficult for me to imagine what could have made my dad choose the way he did. I've had bad days. I mean B.A.D. But never could I ever make the decision to leave this world behind. Just the thought of making the kid feel the way I have felt these last 6+ years makes me sick to my stomach. I will always do everything in my power to protect her from feeling anything remotely close to that sort of grief and loss. I know my dad loved me, more than anything, but on days like today, I may forget. I find myself caught up in the sadness and anger over not being able to call him, or visit, or just send an email. I can't send him a birthday card, even. Can't tell him how important he is to me. I wish he would have known, then maybe we would still be celebrating the way we used to.
I do have many good feelings and memories of my dad. I looked up to him; I am like him in so many ways. The kid is, too, though he died almost 4 years before she was born (coincidentally she was born on the 15th anniversary of my grandpa's death, another very important figure in my life.) My dad was everything. He was smart, funny, strict, strong, loving....everything. He shaped my life more than any other influence. He gave me a passion for what would later become my career. I hope he is proud of me. I hope he is proud of the kid.
I wish he'd been here to hold my hand and comfort me while I fought my battle against cancer. I wish he'd be here to teach the kid how to ride a bike. I wish he could build her a dollhouse. I wish he could have met my husband. I wish we could pick on each other and correct other people's grammar together. I wish we could spend summer nights drinking Corona on the lake. I wish we could sing Broadway songs together on roadtrips again. I wish I could hear him curse out the trailer when it wouldn't level on a campsite. Or yell at shitty drivers.
But instead, I am just left with this emptiness. I don't really know what I will do with myself tomorrow. Probably just a lot of aimless wandering about the internet. Maybe a few drinks after the kid is in bed. Watch some movies. Listen to some of our favorite songs. Wallow a little. Miss him a lot.
So sorry for the ramble. If you get a chance tomorrow, raise a glass to my old man. I will be walking in a couple of Out of the Darkness walks this year in memory of him. Join me by walking in a community walk near you. Help us prevent tragedies like this. May no one else in this world ever know the pain I know.
