I am almost certain you know how this will start...I have thought and thought all day on what to sit and type, the words flowing in my brain a thousand times a minute. But now as I sit here in front of the computer, I am not drawing a blank, I am not crying, at least not yet...I am thinking about suicide and it affects so many people, common people, like me and you. Not just celebrities who go broke, or get depressed, may God bless all of them and their families during these times. But what about me? On May 27, 2003, my father killed himself, yes he went and did the forbidden, he committed suicide. He left behind, me at the age of 23, my brother who was 31, (strangely, that is how old I am), 2 beautiful grandchildren, his wife, his mother, his sister, and three brothers. Did you ever see it on the news? Did you hear about a candle light vigel in his memory. No. Actaully, no one knew what happened. Most thought he went to sleep and never woke up. As you see it didn't occur in our homestate of South Carolina, at the time his job transferred him to Chattanooga, TN, where in less than ONE hour his death was ruled suicide, and his body was loaded into the coroners van, off to the morgue and put in a pine box in the same clothes he had been wearing, a yellow button up collared shirt, blue jeans, and his belt, a braided one, and he was shipped home with other peoples luggage. Not much honor in that. Those people, even if it is thier job, could care less, that I was a daddy'd girl...and talked to him on the phone almost everyday, and he sounded happier than he had ever been. That one day in May tore my family apart for years, and it seems that we are just now beginning to pick up the pieces. It's just so odd that of all the times I was online, God brought me to a particular website hi-lighting that September 4-10 is Suicide Prevention and Awareness week with Sunday being World Wide Suicide Awareness day. It is weird because it's like I have this skeleton in my closet, and I am supposed to be ashamed, keep it a secret...keep smiling, make up some reason why he isn't here. Well, I am sorry, but I am not longer playing that role. I am standing up and telling it like it is...within the last 48 hours I know of 2 suicides that were successful and a third that wasn't, not for the likes of trying. And then I read an article that says its genetic...and was actually told that because my father killed himself I am much more likely to committ suicide as well. Really??? Don't get me wrong, sometimes it seems like such a wonderful way out...but my life isn't bad. I have 2 beautiful children, a neice, three nephews, a brother, my mother, a grandmother, and lots more family that need me. But most of all its my children and my husband. I want them to know me and I want them to know their "Pop", because they never will if I am not here to tell them. I lost so much on that day...most of which I will never get back, but I remember my dad...now all I have are memories, a feeling in my heart to make others aware of this deep dark secret that some many people have experienced. A friend from college, her brother shot himself in a church parking lot while we were in high school....my uncle took too many pills and drank a can of beer, my cousin just last year overdosed on his mothers morphine, a close friend drank anit-freeze in college, thankfully he was found and saved, however, another friend from high school wasnt as lucky, her father shot himself, and then my aunts husband called my mother to see when she was coming home, (this is when she lived in Barnwell, after my dad had passed) when they pulled into the drive way there he was hanging from a tree with his belt. I remember at church a mother of someone that I went to school with, giving her testimony about how she tried to kill her herself and was unsuccessful. I have strangers, friends of friends and so on, confide in me their suicide story, you see we are all affected, not just me, even though that is what it feels like. I had a friend whose father committed suicide, he and I became even closer after my dad passed, I finally had someone to talk to, someone who know how I felt, someone who understood me, and then on October 22, 2005 he was killed in an automobile accident. I have read numerous stories about children and teens who are driven to suicide because of bullies. What is wrong with this picture? We are losing soldiers everyday, not too mention that their suicide rate is quite high. When did life become worth not living, when did your loved ones become worth not living for? Unfortuantely, that one statement contradicts everything that I have ever said about my dad taking his own life. Call me a hypocrite. My father was 50 years old when he killed himself. I tell myself and anyone that asks, he was a grown man, he could make his own decisions and he believed that if chose this route, we, his family, were strong enough to pick up and keep going. I wonder what he thought as he watched as we each deteriated in our own ways, me, well it took some time for it to even hit me, mom, she didn't get of the bed for months, my brother went on a binge. There we were a family so torn apart, but he must of thought we could make it. And you know what, there are parts of me that say it wasn't suicide at all, but I have been told that those who experience such a traumatic event like suicide will "make up" other reasons for the death. So, in that aspect I am suppose I am a liar too. The truth is I am torn right down the middle, I know my dad was capable of doing it, he told me to my face, and yet when I looked at the Crime Scene Photos, it just didn't look right....so many things out of place, so many stories that didn't make any sense, like for starters, why would he use the gun my brother has just but him for Christmas, he had 2 others in a closet and one in his truck. Why was his body positioned in such a way on the couch that he was half way off, as if someone was sitting on him, was was his belt undone and tucked under his jeans, his legs crossed perfectly...why was everything so perfectly set up? Oh, and how come the neighbors could hear his dog Missy yapping over the weekend, a miniature yorkie, but you mean to tell me that NO ONE heard the sound of a .45 glock going off? And I am sure you are thinking to yourself, oh my goodness, she has seen all the photos, yes, I have and that is not how I think of him at all. I don't think of him in a casket, I think of him alive, sitting on the front porch talking to me when he got home from work. I think of me crawling into his lap and getting butterfly kisses, since I was too old for the others kisses! I think of the hard working, respectable man he was, the man that would do anything he had to for his family, even if it meant sacrificing for himself. You see, just one week earlier, well, the date he received it was May 22, I sent him a card, it was a thank you card, he sent me $100 to help with my rent down in Charleston, I remember he told me, he wished he could send more but that is all he had...and in the card I wrote, thank you, told him how much I loved him, how well we were doing and that I need to him to stay strong because I needed my daddy for a long time, 5 days later he was gone. That is the hardest memory that I have to deal with, I borrowed money, what if that could have saved his life? Yes, I know we could always ask what if, but if you want real, then this is it. Stepping back a minute, I no longer have the pictures. Once we started our family we decided that it was best to destroy them, by burning them. I didn't want my children to EVER stumble upon those pictures. However, I still have all the paperwork, medical and dental records, that I will keep. I am sure that most people who see and meet me don't think I have this dark secret hidden in my heart, but I do. Everyday I think about him, and what he is missing out on, he didn't get to walk me down the aisle, but I am thankful that my brother was there to fill his shoes when I needed him. He isn't going to meet his new grandchildren, and unfortunately only one really remembers him, my neice was too young, but she did write him a letter and it was placed in his jacket pocket along with a family photo. I know, why do we do these things, their souls are long gone, but it felt right. I mean at one time I was practically curled up in his lap...I did spray him down with cologne so that he smelled like my dad even if he couldn't hold me back.
I began to look for answers. I began to seek out help from my friends who were familiar with the Bible, do you know that some wouldn't even have the conversation with me. I don't know the truth to this, but I remember learning at one time that if you commit suicide, you are never at peace, you are constantly reliving that moment and you are most definitely going to hell. I will be the first to tell you that my father is in Heaven, and when its my turn he will be waiting for me. He was a saved man, but he was a private man, a man of few words. But he was my dad and no matter what he always will be.
I ask you not to be shy or afraid to confront me about this situation. As for the stages of Grieving, I am not so sure I believe in them...only because some days I am angry, others I cry, and some days I am at peace. Guess, I am just crazy.
You can help...Septmeber 4-10 is awareness and prevention...unfortunately, my dad was in another state and sounded happier than he had in years, I saw no warning signs. So here I am eight years later still trying to pick up pieces and keep on living.
0 comments:
Post a Comment