The following was written Oct 28, 2017. I just felt I should share now. I want to write more but have not gotten around to it. But this is a snapshot of my thoughts in the first year after my dad’s suicide.
Note: the feature photo is art my dad created before he passed away.
I sit down to write and do not know how to begin. All I know is that I need to get my thoughts and feelings out and writing is how I will try. I have so much to process. Today another wave of grief hit. And this time with some anger too. I took my oldest son to his preschool basketball class and just couldn’t get my dad out of my mind. I wanted him to be there. To be interacting and playing with his grandson. To be silly and encouraging and supportive. I just kept thinking about all that he is missing out on. And there is no turning back. He is gone forever. Why did he do this? Why is this the way it had to turn out? The reality is, I understand why. I just don’t want it to be that way. I wanted there to be a miracle. I wanted there to be healing. I wanted so much more. But there isn’t more. This is it. I am angry. At him. At God. At all the people around him that didn’t step up and show him the love he needed. Including myself. Angry that we all failed. But did we fail? Or is this just how life has to be sometimes? Is this just how it works?
In the gymnasium, I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. I kept hearing “go Kira!”, the words he ritualistically said every time I stopped, bounced the volleyball twice, and lifted it up over my head to serve in my high school games. His voice, now gone forever. I want to hear it. I want to savor it. I want it back. I don’t want to leave the gym because I don’t want his voice to be gone. I wanted to hear it over and over again. But I must keep moving, I must go to the next thing. I must take care of my boys and get them home. Time to go.
How are we supposed to grieve properly in today’s society? How are we supposed to have time? People are so supportive in the first few weeks but then life just goes on and they just keep on living. It’s months later and everything seems forgotten about. Everyone goes about their business. Acting like normal. But I don’t feel normal. I feel different. I don’t’ know what I feel. It’s so many things all at once. And I know it’s not going to change for a while. Can I do this? Will it be like this forever? Or is this the new normal?