So the story goes…

Trigger warning!!! Suicide is discussed in the following post!!!

I remember him lying on his back, seemingly peaceful, leaving all of us in his past. I begged him to stay, to want to stay, I remember the conversation we had 2 weeks before he completed. I reminded him of my worth and why I needed him to stay. But, he just couldn’t. There’s a song by Kelly Clarkson, Piece by Piece that encompasses a lot of the feelings surrounding abandonment. I definitely relate to that song. The abandonment that my Dad left for me to sort through when he completed suicide. You may hear a bit of anger in here. Please know it is not me judging those who have completed. It is my anger of being left behind in the pain. Pain that my Dad so desperately tried to remove but made bigger for my family and I. To say that it left a hole, would be the biggest understatement. It left holesssss for years. This is just me. Little ol’ me, trying to make sense of something that has never and will never make sense. 

Promises

I want to share my heart on this subject because it hurts. My heart bleeds. I question my worth daily because my Dad left this Earth prematurely. He promised he wouldn’t. At the time my Dad completed suicide, my Mom and Dad were having severe marital struggles. My Mom had just moved out of the house a few weeks prior. Then moved back into the house days before he completed. Only the two of them knew what was going on in their marriage. I was a teenager who didn’t know squat. It wasn’t my marriage to care for. My Mom was working nights at the hospital as a phlebotomist. Two weeks prior to his completion, my Dad planned to attempt suicide. My older brother came home to find what he was doing and stop him from doing it. I was too young to understand that someone in this state needed emergent help. If he was threatening or planning, it was time he was admitted into a hospital. I’m not sure we all as a family believed this nightmare could take place. So ,the answer to why didn’t we get him help is that “I don’t know”. I was the kid, and not the adult in this story. Somehow, I found out about the plan my Dad had, and I had a discussion with him. I begged him to stay here. He explained that his heart is hurting so deeply, that he can’t imagine life without my Mom in it. I remember selling myself up in a way…like, “pick me Daddy, pick me. I need you to stay and while I understand life without Mom would be hard for you to fathom, I can’t do life without my Daddy. So, please Daddy, please, don’t do it. Think of me and all that I have to offer and just…stay.” So, he promised me that he would stay. That life with his kids was just as valuable and precious. He said he would stay. 

Completion

Two weeks later, he completed suicide. I found him along with two of my closest friends. We were all 16 years old. My friends had been drinking that night like high school kids sometimes do. I was supposed to come home by 10 pm. I didn’t come home until 1:30 the next morning. I was off in some middle school football field with friends. I was hanging out and making sure my friends didn’t do anything stupid. I was the designated driver. Actually, in taking care of my friends, that is how I discovered my Dad’s suicide. “Sarah” (I’m changing names here because their story is not my story to tell) was super drunk. Me being the mother hen of the group, I was worried about alcohol poisoning. “Jennifer” was less drunk but still very much not sober. She and I were taking care of Sarah. We lived in Arizona at the time. It was a hot summer night and we had a shower outside by the pool. Sarah got sick prior to our arrival at my house, so I sent her and Jennifer to clean her up at the shower by the pool. They were being super loud because, alcohol and young kids. I was contemplating calling Sarah’s parents. I didn’t want them to hear the giggling in the background. It was time, in my mind, to involve adults who knew what to do in this scenario. Jennifer and I decided that we were going to call Sarah’s parents. Yes, I knew that we would be in trouble, but I was more worried about my friend. Sarah was done showering by the pool in the back yard. They both were making their way up to the back door. I started dialing Sarah’s parents’ house number. Giggling was ensuing all around me, so I decided to walk into the garage and shut the door behind me. As part of my Dad’s plan, he took his truck over to the mechanic’s house the night before so his vehicle was not there. I was not expecting him to be home at that time.

Help me

I walked into the garage with the light off, my back turned to the door opening to the garage. The phone started to ring to Sarah’s parents house and I flipped on the garage light. When the light came on, I was then able to see my Dad laying on the floor (in front of the swamp cooler vent) of the garage. I laughed because, anyone that knew my Dad would know that is totally something he would have done in the heat of summer. As I laughed, I also hung the phone up because I thought it was perfect, my Dad is here and he can help Sarah. You see, my Dad was close with me. He was sort of my ride or die. There were many things I did as a teenager (a toilet papering run for example) that my Dad was aware of, but my Mom never was. Daddy was more my buddy. I could trust him not to get mad at me for things when I got into trouble. “Dad, I need your help.”

Shock me

I walked closer and in that moment, my heart sank to my feet and shock and disbelief shook over me. I realized he had a bag over his head. The kind you get from the grocery store. His eyes were open. “Daddy!!! Wake up”, I screamed. In that instant, I dialed 911. “911 what is your emergency?” “My Dad tried to kill himself and I think it worked.” I don’t remember much of the conversation from there. But I remember Jennifer and Sarah both came in. Sarah was laughing hysterically. I think she was so drunk that she didn’t believe what she was seeing was true. But Jennifer sobered up really quickly. The 911 operator asked me to do CPR. I told her “it’s too late, he’s gone, his eyes are open and he’s not breathing.” I’m not sure how I knew he was gone, but I knew then that it was too late. CPR would not change the path that my Daddy just steered us onto, and I knew it with all my being. I remember the 911 operator asking if someone else could perform CPR. I remember asking Jennifer if she could do CPR. She said she would try. But I knew he was gone, it was too late. Jennifer was never able to attempt CPR and frankly, I’m glad she didn’t. He was gone before we had found him. I can’t imagine the effects of doing CPR on your friend’s father at the ripe age of 16. 

Come home

I mentioned before that my Mom was working nights at the hospital at the time. I had to call her and let her know what happened. “Mom, I need you to come home.” “Why, honey, what’s wrong?” “Mom, I just need you to trust me, I need you to come home.” “What is going on Kam?” I knew I had to tell her something, I just didn’t want to lose another parent to erratic driving on her way home from the hospital. “Dad tried to commit suicide and I think it worked.” I mean, what are the words that you use to tell someone that kind of thing?!? I didn’t know what to say. “Oh my God, where are you?” I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation. I remember shortly after the medics left and the call to my Mom took place, a detective showed up at my house. I remember because he was a stranger and he was freshly showered and reeked of cologne and he tried to hug me. That was the beginning of not wanting to be touched, held, or wanting anything but silence around me. I think he uttered some condolences or something, I don’t know. I don’t remember much after that until my Mom came home. She too wanted to hold me, and I wanted nothing of the sort. At some point, Jennifer and Sarah’s parents were called and they were picked up. My Mom and I sat in silence at the dining room table for what seemed like hours. The coroner came into the dining room and filled out the toe tag for my Daddy’s lifeless body, right in front of me. At that time, I was numb and was likely having an out of body experience, or dissociating at best. I remember the coroner handing my Dad’s jewelry and wedding ring to her as well. All the valuables needed to be removed, apparently that’s a thing. 

Calls

A short time later, it was sunny and the day was starting for so many. For me, the nightmare just kept on rolling. It was time to start calling people and letting them know what happened. I still didn’t understand what happened, really. I remember I was the one who called my Grandmother (my Dad’s mother). She previously lost my uncle (my Dad’s baby brother) to a fire a couple of years prior to that time. I’m not sure why I was the one to take that task on, but I can only explain that I felt a new responsibility to be an adult. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, I was done being a kid. My childhood was stolen and forever in its place, seriousness and adulting. Thinking back, it was literally like someone flipped a switch in my brain, which trauma does. I was no longer the kid and felt that I needed to be an adult now. I remember at some point in the morning hours, my Mom called a crisis line and I talked to someone. I remember being exhausted and just wanting to go to sleep. I told the crisis counselor that also, and I was left to sleep. I remember thinking to myself as I nodded off, “what does it mean now that my Dad killed himself? What does that say about me and our family?”. I don’t know why I had those thoughts. I don’t think anyone would fault me for any thoughts. I had them in a desperately sad moment and I was just trying to live through it at that time. 

Dreams

That morning, as I slept, I had a dream about my Daddy. It was like it was his spirit giving me the goodbye that I so needed earlier. But that I never got the chance to have. When I was younger, I was very sick. I was a very severe asthmatic who needed breathing treatments. I turned blue on my parents a few times, and was rushed to the hospital often. My Mom was always the warrior when it came to the meds part. My Dad? He was the back rubber and the silent support I needed when I just needed to fight for air. So that morning, I dreamt of my Dad rubbing my back like he used to. I woke up to him rubbing my back, only to realize the dream I was having was a reality that I would never get to experience in my walk on this Earth again. It was a cruel joke that I had to wake up from such a moment of Daddy/daughter bliss…but reality never waits. I don’t remember the months ahead of this time, I truly don’t. I know I was off work for funeral arrangements and such. I also remember, we had two funerals, one in California for my Dad’s side of the family (more on why that was separate in a separate post). One for my Mom’s side of the family and local family and friends in Arizona. I did not grieve his death right away, I just didn’t know how to. I attended the funeral in Arizona. No kidding, even in a small town, there was standing room only and there was a line out the door of people who came to say goodbye. My Dad was the shirt off his back kind of friend and it showed, even in his final days. I attended the funeral in Arizona, and then, I went back to work. I never attended the California funeral, I was a manager at Burger King. I just. had. to. get. back. to. work. Grief was knocking, and I refused to answer. I shoved that sh*t so far down, I couldn’t swallow anything but my feelings for weeks. I kept going, one foot in front of the other for years. Until I couldn’t anymore.

Resolve

I was 16 when that happened. Now I have resolve like no other resolve I’ve met before. You see, my resolve to fight this generational curse is S-T-R-O-N-G. I absolutely refuse to let this be a part of my daughter’s story too. It ends with me, and she will never have to wonder if she is worthless or why her parent didn’t keep a promise to live. I’m not angry at him, I’m really not, though I do have moments of anger. I also understand the pain, as a sufferer of mental illness in general. I understand what the weight of carrying a load too big for your shoulders does to a person…I get it. I still resolve for my daughter to never know this pain, and my hope in sharing my story is that anyone who reads this will resolve the same for themselves and their families. Break the cycle. Break the curse. Trust me, I know it hurts like heck to do so, believe me, this pain is unfathomable. But I also see that I have two choices. One choice is to pass the pain onto my family, the other choice is to break through the pain and darkness and rejoice on the other side of it. I choose therapy. I choose heartbreak. I choose processing all the sh*t that bubbles up. I choose life. Even when it hurts. I hope you’ll continue to come along for the journey of my healing. Stay well my friends.