Father’s Day After Dad Died

Celebrating holidays after the loss of a loved to suicide can be extremely difficult.  Becky and I wanted to take the time to talk about how we mark Father’s Day after dad died and how it impacts us. While our fathers are no longer with us, their memories are strong. We continue to honor them on this blog and celebrate the lives they lived.

Becky’s Story

It’s hard to believe another Father’s Day weekend is upon us. I still find it difficult to believe a date that used to hold such significance in our family has become just another day to me. I remember the last Father’s Day celebration we had together, which was just two months before my dad died. We met at a restaurant we’d visited numerous times before – and that he seemed to like. I could tell something was just beginning to feel amiss with him. Instead of wearing his usual smile, he just seemed somewhat distracted. This became especially apparent to me when it came time to give him our gifts. He was a devout Milwaukee Brewers fan and I found a great canvas image of their stadium, which I thought he might want to hang in his office. However, when he opened it, he almost seemed confused, like, “why would I want this?” or, “what will I do with this?” It was very subtle, but I remember having to say – “I thought this would go with the rest of your Brewers decor?” I also gave him a framed photo of us dancing at my wedding, which had occurred only two weeks prior. Again, he seemed appreciative of the gesture, but not nearly as sentimental about it as I thought he would have been. I will never know if suicide was on his mind at that point yet, but I now wonder if the receiving of gifts that highlighted some of his favorite things weighed on him (if taking his life was on his mind). It’s so easy for me to speculate, but I will never know.

These days, I still mark Father’s Day by thinking of him – of course. But, there’s no one to call, no one to visit and no one to happily get together with for a special meal. In the age of social media, it can also be difficult to scroll through Facebook and see everyone celebrating with their families and sharing pictures of dads who are still alive. This and his birthday are the two days during the year that focus exclusively on him. At least with other holidays – like Christmas or Thanksgiving – there are usually other family members and traditions that can help to reduce the “hole” his absence has left. But, on these days, I’m forced to just acknowledge what happened and that he’s not here and to cherish the memories I do have.

I stopped to visit him at the cemetery yesterday and thought to myself – “You’re not supposed to be there, under my feet. You’re supposed to be up here, with me!” And, I wonder if he wishes he was, or if he is at peace and in a better place, without regret. As it coincidentally seems to happen whenever I go there, the large cemetery bells began to chime and a breeze blew my way. I always pretend like it’s a wind “hug” and that the chimes are for me.

I will be thinking of all of you who have lost a father – regardless of the circumstances – this weekend.

Jessica’s Story

I remember my first Father’s Day after my dad took his life. I stood in the card aisle at a local drugstore and cried as I read the many Father’s Day cards.  The words written by some stranger were no longer just a cliché. They were now so powerful, and served as a reminder that I would never be able to tell my father how much I loved him. So many emotions hit me at once. It was as if I finally realized that my father was gone, and I would never again pick out another card to send to him.

This year, Father’s Day brings forth a mixture of feelings. My husband and I were blessed with a baby girl last August, making this Father’s Day my husband’s first. I am extremely excited to celebrate this day for him, as he is an amazing father to our daughter. While I want to honor him, it is difficult to acknowledge that my father is not here. It reminds me that my daughter will never meet her grandfather and that I too will never see him or feel his warm embrace. So there I found myself, on that wretched card aisle, reading through the many Father’s Day cards. Only this time, the tears didn’t come. My daughter, 10 months old now smiling at me as I picked out a card for her to give to her daddy. When I look at her, I see my father. She has the same big blue eyes that he had, so full of love. I like to think that he talks to me through her, a constant reminder of innocence and pure happiness.

When you lose a loved one to suicide, your entire world changes in a split second. The path you are on is no longer clear. You are left feeling completely out of control and helpless. For many months after the loss of my father, time stood still. Well, I guess life continued around me, but I sat on my path just staring at the mountain that had been placed in the way. I didn’t want to climb that mountain. I just wanted to sit and stare at it for a while. To me, that is what grief is. It is not about climbing a mountain. It is about allowing yourself to just sit for as long as you need to digest and absorb what has just happened. Then, you can choose to climb over or not. As a survivor, I believe that I will always be climbing a mountain, and that is ok with me. I don’t need to be on a smooth path like I once thought I needed.  What I have learned is that even though you may be climbing a mountain, there is still beauty all around you.  Sometimes it just takes a little sitting to finally see it.

Happy Father’s Day Popi.