I will probably always question why Dad took his life. I do know it is an unanswerable question, but it does not, or can not, stop the quest.
I will most certainly always wonder what I could have, should have done... that might have saved him. Just as I will always wonder how I could not have known he was depressed, how much pain his tortured soul was in.
The perfect storm analogy, clicked with me. It made a semblance of sense, to something that has none.
Quote:
And often somebody will say, I am only staying alive for my loved ones, and that is very true…
But at the point where they kill themselves, their judgment is so impaired and their pain is so great…
That even that isn’t enough to keep them going."
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Though I have heard similar words spoken by others many times, the way they were said this time, or perhaps it was more because I was ready to hear them this time? Had a huge impact on me.
Since Dad's death not one day has gone by that I am not tortured by my thoughts. One of them is the thoughts of our love, how deep and true that love was- and yet, it couldn't save him........ how he didn't love me enough to stay.
In trying to see through my pain, and into the pain my Dad must have been in, comes not only forgiveness, but an understanding that his death was about the pain
HE was in, and not the pain he left me in.
He could not have known the hell he would leave behind....... just as I , could not see the pain, he was clearly in.
I no longer think of his death as his "choice". A choice, is made by a rational person. Choice is taken out of it when ones thinking is so deeply clouded by pain. I now
know he did not want to leave us. In my heart, I now call it,
“his perfect storm"
I will forever wish to waken from this nightmare. But, that is fantasy. The reality is, there is a perfect storm brewing inside me……
I plan to ride the tsunami, wave after wave... learning and growing as each wave takes me under. Finding my strength to surface again, reaching out for help, and offering my hand to those in need.... is the greatest gift I can think of to honor my Dad.
I tend to now think of myself as someone who has suffered a traumatic injury. As with most such injuries one needs to learn how to do many things anew. The difference is, my injury was to my heart... there are no rehabilitation centers that can help. Dad is gone, but he lives in my heart. It is up to me..... I must now find new ways to live.