Endurance

This is the second of three installments involving facing my father's suicide. This second part describes the monster I've been at war with.

"The end product of love is pain and hurt." I don't like this quotation, but it was slapped on my forehead when my father took his life six years ago. The vast valley that was created with his departure has yet to be crossed. Think about someone, something you love more than anything. I mean someone, something you love with all your heart. Then have them removed from your life with no explanation.

I've wrote about this before in another media, but when someone dies of cancer, car crash, or bear mauling there is (usually) an explanation. With suicide, those left behind are planted into a world of confusion. Why? Why? Why did he do it? Endless questions pop up never to be answered, because the one who can answer them is gone forever. It is a misery I would never wish upon another. It is a constant fog you're driving through, and putting on your bright lights will only make it worse. It is having your heart ripped out, rearranged, and put back in so not to work properly for some time. It is a complete loss of emotional control. It is an exhausting mental battle that rages on for years. Simply put, it is a deep, lost love - the worst loss of them all.

"What would make someone take their own life?" This question engulfed me for months after my father's death. I tried to put myself in his shoes, in his mindset. It was a dangerous path, and probably not a wise one. After exploring many dark paths and my imagination, I came upon a time and place where I knew if I continued I would end up hurting myself. So, I turned and walked away, but not without scars.

Those scars still exist today. The "why" questions are also still lingering. WHY SHOULD I GO DOWN TOO??? I didn't have any such grand problems before this, and now I'm fighting off this pain and hurt with sword and shield to save myself.

Past, present, future. What also hurts is what he will miss in my life. This runs too deep to sometimes deal with, but he is never going to be part of anything I do. If one day I am lucky enough to get married and have a family, he won't be a part of their lives. It is sad. Sad because he was a great person, and they won't ever know him.

God, whatever or whoever you are, my father didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know he was going to cause so much pain and destruction in his wake. He was in a painful place. A place where he couldn't handle being alive. So he left. Please forgive him.

The final installment will continue next week and will describe new tactics on looking forward and finding my place in the universe. Until then, take care of yourself.

The above painting is by Fred Tomaselli called Colony.