Sunday is Father's Day. It will be the first one I'll have to experience with no dad.
He committed suicide. He shot himself through the head, and when my family and I went to view the body, they had just a rediculous hat on him that he would never wear,because they had to cover the bullet hole. He had a nice suit on and that hat that made him look as if he were a thug about to rob something. It was just really strange. He looked nothing like himself. I went to see him for closure, but what I saw wasn't him.
Many people were shocked to hear the news, but I wasn't. He wasn't a good man anymore. He was sick and had some demons to handle and I guess they got the better of him.
I'm not sad because I miss him. Believe me, our house is just the way I've wished for it to be for the past few years. I'm sad because he never got better. We never got to make up. I was supposed to grow up and come back to him and he was supposed to be healthy and nice. We were both going to apologize and have a good father/daughter relationship for the first time since I was about 9 or 10. But he let me down again. Though I can't say I'm not used to it. I just can't get over the fact that I'll never get to tell him I'm sorry for the things I said to him. Or the fact that my mom's a widow. Or the fact that I now see how many people his death affected because these people truly loved him.
I'm angry. I'm pissed.
His brother committed suicide in the early 90's. One of his best friends committed suicide a few months ago. He saw every angle of how suicide tears families and friends apart. He experienced what it felt like to lose a brother and a friend. Yet he made his 3 remaining brothers and his parents who are in their 80s go through all of this again. And he made countless friends go through this at all.... I know that time heals all, but it's going to take a while to heal these wounds.
I forgive him, but that doesn't make me any less angry or upset.
But, somehow I feel closer to him now than I ever have. I've learned things about him that help me to see the man my mom fell in love with almost 30 years ago. Because no matter what anyone says or how hard I wish, the man I knew and the man I heard about were two different people.
The man I knew:
-followed you looking for an arguement.
-said horrid things to people he loved.
-drank too much.
-was depressed.
-killed himself.
The man I heard about:
-bought a bike at a yardsale and fixed it up for a little girl that lived next door.
-beat up his little brother's bully and made sure no one messed with the Bigelow's.
-had no fear.
-was adventurous.
-had more love in him than he would ever admit.
So, here it is. I was never daddy's little girl, and I didn't like him most of the time these past 5 years, but I loved my Daddy.
Happy Father's Day Dad. I wish things could have been different.
