I miss you loudly. No one can see it. Or maybe they do. My brain brings memories of us to the surface showing me how much you cared, in your own way.

You were my biggest supporter. You were the one I called first when I had exciting news or announced (yet another) pregnancy. You mourned when I miscarried.

Our souls are connected. I got your compassion for others from you. You saw the best in people and so do I. We both learned some hard lessons trusting people, but we still wore our heart on our sleeves.

You supported me in my dreams of being in engineering when it was still taboo for women. You never steered me away. You supported my decision to move away to go to college where I would be only one of a few girls in the engineering program.

I miss talking with you about our family history. No one seems quite as interested in it than we were. You kept in touch with family and wrote letters checking in on your cousins, sisters, and brother. I know you were hurt when your brother stopped sending letters. I wish your dad could have seen all the compassion and love you had that I saw. Or maybe he did and was too jealous, because he could never have that for himself. I miss our weekly talks. I saved your voicemails and I still listen to them.

Our relationship could have been complicated, and it was at times, but I saw past that gruff angry exterior. I saw who you were and what type of person you were trying to be. I saw your compassionate heart. You were the gentle giant.

Should I have told you that you could call me when you were feeling low anytime of the day or night?

I used to say time heals. It lessens the severity of grief. But does it really? I am not the same person as I was before my dad died. Bouts of depression are longer and harder to crawl out of. The grief hits harder and longer these days. I may have a good few months and then grief takes over with no warning and it takes hold. Yes time can heal the grief, for a little while, but it’s only a bandaid. It’s like a patch on a pool. Water keeps filling up and the patch gives out. Then the flood gates of grief hit. And a new cycle begins.

It’s maddening and frustrating. Why can’t I just get over it? Why can’t I just enjoy the moments in life now? I know I will see him again, so why can’t I just accept that and live my life to the fullest ?

What if I told you my dad might have known he was going to end his life? What if I told you he was planning it? He sold their 4 runner, his favorite truck that he’s had for decades. I learned to drive on that thing. We went off roading in it where I would panic thinking we’d fall off a side of the mountain. So many memories. And he took such good care of it. So when it had needed something replaced, he instead sold it to his mechanic shop. He loved that thing. And he just gave it away. This was a month before he died. The plan was for him to buy a truck. My mom found one and told my dad that they should buy it. They had the money for it, that wasn’t an issue. My dad just said not right now, maybe after the new year. That was not in my dad’s character to say the least. He was an impatient man and impulsive. The dad I know would have gone straight to the dealership to buy himself a brand new truck. The day my dad died, he put his hand on my mom’s lap and said, ‘don’t worry about me and what happened the other day (he cried over the last conversation with his dr, saying there’s nothing that can help his side effects. My mom had never seen him get emotional like that before). He continued to say, ‘I am happy.’ First, my parents have never showed their love for each other. I’ve never seen them hug in my life and I’ve never seen them hold hands or even kiss! There was no physical touch in any of our family relationships. No hugs, nothing emotional. So for my dad to be emotional and talk to my mom, calming her fears, was strange.

So if he had been planning this, why didn’t he go to the desert, away from the house and away from my mom who was sleeping in the next room? Why would he let her find him like that? My mom describes how she found him and it’s the most heartbreaking moment I have ever had. If he knew he was leaving us, why didn’t he write goodbye letters? That’s one thing that we all have a really hard time with. So many unanswered questions. We keep saying, if only he wrote a letter to us. Since he didn’t, and left no notes, I feel like he didn’t care about us. It makes me feel like I didn’t do enough. And that is the absolutely worst feeling for me. One thing that I hate is that I never feel like I am good enough. I’ve struggled with this my whole life. My mind tells me I was not good enough to be an engineer. I am not a good enough mom, wife, sister, aunt, or friend. I am not a good daughter. The list can go on. Bosses have said I can’t do construction/engineering because I am a woman and I should do paperwork and that’s what we are good at. A family member once told me that I couldn’t afford college in another state so why should I go there (after opening the admittance letter). I never did sports in high school because I thought I wasn’t good enough. The one person who ALWAYS believed in me was my dad. I wanted to go away to school across the country at one point and become a mechanic. His friend said I am a woman and that’s not my job. My dad knew I could do anything I wanted! So here’s my biggest supporter, who doesn’t leave a goodbye note for me, and all I can think of is that I wasn’t a good enough daughter for him.

I am not saying these things out of pity. This is something very private that I don’t talk about. But what I am trying to convey is that this is such a complicated grief. There’s so many roots of this grief that grow in all different directions. I get stuck on one root and then trip over another root of grief that I have to untangle myself out of. My views change with every grief cycle and I might have a different opinion on if he really planned it or not. My husband said if he was planning it, he would have absolutely let us all a note. He thinks my dad was just so miserable. And he being impulsive and impatient, he made a snap decision that altered everyone’s lives.

So please. If you ever think about ending your life. Please think about who you leave behind and the aftermath that they will always have to live with. They are NOT better off without you. We know how hard it is. We truly do. I’ve been analyzing every detail of my dad’s health and awful side effects he went through. It’s been almost 7 years and I still wish I could have taken the pain away.

Please. Just. Stay. Tell someone exactly what you need. Have honest conversations with someone you trust about your situation. Pray! Sincerely pray for help and guidance.

I did see a glimmer of hope last week that I so desperately needed. I was eating lunch with a good friend and we were talking about our lives and catching up. I was in the middle of talking about how we don’t have family close and then I heard My Girl play on the restaurants radio. I stopped in my tracks. I looked up and had tears in my eyes. That’s my dad and I’d wedding song. My friend had tears in her eyes as well as I. She said, ‘he’s telling you that he is still here for you and will always be family.’ We may not have family close or have close connections with family but my dad will always be here with me. In that moment it felt like he was standing behind my chair, with his hands on my shoulders standing proud.

Hugs,

Sarah