This week marks an unbelievable three years since my dad’s death. As I was developing this post, I almost included the word “anniversary” in my title. However, I realized that term usually has a happy connotation – like with a wedding – and I didn’t feel like using it this time around. Some days, it feels like he left us only yesterday, but on other occasions, it feels like so much longer. I’ve had new jobs, a new house, a new car and a new baby on the way all in this timeframe.
One question that will continue to permeate me is how long he had been considering suicide as an option. To me, it all seemed to happen so quickly. I found this picture from a fundraising event we attended together at my high school just four months prior. I mean, look at that smile – it seems genuine, even in his eyes. How could suicide have been on his mind? I honestly don’t believe it was at the time. Or, if it was, I was sure duped. We laughed and laughed because the photographer thought I was his date instead of his daughter and tried to have me pose with my hand on his chest. We spent the rest of the night telling that funny story to others.
The Turning Point
I started to notice a change in his behavior shortly after my wedding, which was two months before his death. Work and other stressors just seemed to consume him and he lost interest in his usual activities. Nothing seemed to cheer him up. However, as I mentioned in a post last week, it wouldn’t have even occurred to me to think that suicide was on his mind because he once told us that “nothing could ever be so bad in life that we’d have to resort to it.” (Granted, this was about 20 years earlier.) We all figured he was in a slump. And, frankly, if someone has never shared that they have been feeling suicidal, why would it ever occur to you this could be on the horizon? I’ve been struck by all of the commentary about Robin Williams and how we should be more vigilant about watching for warning signs. This is the old and guilt-ridden hindsight that can grip survivors. It still won’t sink in to people who haven’t experienced this. I personally don’t feel like I have any regrets, though. What I feel is plain-old sadness that he chose this path and that he’s gone. I am now thankful that I have this newfound awareness of depression, mental illness and risks for suicide as I look around at the relationships I have with others. Though I wasn’t able to “catch” my dad before this happened, I feel I have a deeper appreciation for how quickly depression can escalate. I won’t just focus on trying to cheer someone up anymore because I now realize it’s much bigger than that. It could be a “slump,” but it’s safer to assume it’s more.
The New Normal, Three Years In
Unfortunately, this has left me one terrified, on-edge and anxious person. I’ve over-compensated a bit. Maybe I’ve become too vigilant. Not just about suicide, but about anything that could catch me by such surprise and despair again. I check more than ample times before making a left turn for fear of being struck in my car. I consider other ways I could drive so that I could avoid this happening. I’ve increased calls to my mom to near daily – compared to the once or so monthly times I’d call home when my dad was alive. I won’t even get into the list of worries I have about my daughter. I think this is just part of the new normal survivors experience when a loved one dies this way. Here, they thought they were lifting their burdens from us in death, but they really only just introduced us to them. If my dad knew I would still be carrying this “baggage” for three years, would he have reconsidered? How could he have predicted this? This is one more reason why we want to share our stories on this blog. We want people to see that survivors left behind are shackled by a lifetime of newfound baggage.
Throughout this time, I’ve been seeing a counselor, I’ve tried bereavement yoga, I’ve tried acupuncture and most recently – hypnotherapy (hypnosis, which I’ll share more about in a future post). But, that huge, invisible bag is still there on my back. Sure, I’ve learned some skills on how I can cope through harder times and how to try and calm my own anxiety. But, the fact is, I will never be the same person I was before this happened.
Time has helped to take away the sting and that initial, hopeless haze I felt in the early days. Now, this suitcase is just something I am learning to live with. I laugh and smile and am able to appreciate the beauty in life. All of the things I’ve experienced in these three years (from my marriage to the jobs to the house and baby on the way) have brought me more joy than I could have imagined. But, I’m going to keep proactively exploring these various forms of therapy and treatment because I also need to be vigilant with myself (in addition to watching out for others). That’s one of the “gifts” I promised to give myself in this new normal. Of course, it’s time and money I’d rather not spend, but my health, wellness and ability to cope with my dad’s suicide are priorities I will never sacrifice.
Thinking of you today and always, dad!
Patty Carbone says
Your blogs are a lifelife for me now. You are spot on in every way I feel. It has only been 5 months but I know I will feel the same 3 years down the road. I am forever changed and yes, spending money on therapy etc…but my life (physical and mental) is WORTH it.
Please know you are someones angel, mine.
God Bless.
Patty
Becky says
Hi Patty,
I really appreciate you sharing this. Some days, it can be challenging to press on with this blog due to the topic nature or wondering how much of my life I still need to dedicate to the WAY my dad died. It helps to know that people find value in what we are sharing and resonate with what we’re going through! Thank you. I am so sorry for your own loss. I know this is just about the hardest part to get through.
Becky
Tish says
Becky,
Thanks for putting yourself out here and expressing your feelings. Your have put into words so much of what I feel having lost my dad. I can relate to being more vigilant with myself and other family members; looking still for any missed signs; really searching photos for any clue; and most recently reliving those “first days after” with the publicity of Robin Williams passing.
Thanks for validating that it is OK for us to have all these feelings…no matter how far out it has been since their death. As you wrote, it is our new normal and it will be OK…just different. I now appreciate the beauty your write about and feel compassion toward others and their struggles. I absolutely love the picture you have posted…it is obvious you and your dad enjoyed being together. Maybe we can still keep our dads forever in our hearts and hold tight onto all the joy they brought us as daughters. Be good to yourself….stay healthy!
Becky says
Thank you, Tish! Your message really warmed my heart today. Even “all these years” later, I think to myself that those in my circle would probably be surprised to know how much help I continue to seek about this, but survivors know and understand. I feel like people would think it’s abnormal the way I’m talking about this baggage I carry and what not but it’s just too hard for anyone else to comprehend! Unfortunately, it just is what it is.
Tish says
Becky, please know by your being honest and upfront about your feelings, you are helping so many of us. We all have this baggage as survivors and it is a true comfort to know we have each other. I think about my dad a million times a day!!! Thanks again for posting and making a difference by touching our hearts….what a nice tribute to your dad!
Katie says
I’m 22 years old, and my 59 year old father took his life on September 23, 2014, just two weeks after his birthday. He left behind a loving wife and three kids. It’s been barely over a month without Dad and the holiday season is fast approaching. If anyone has any tips for surviving the holidays let me know. Thanks for the Blog post. It’s nice knowing I’m not alone and that there is indeed life to live after death.
Becky says
Hi Katie, I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. This is something no one should have to experience. We have a few posts about the holidays, if you click on our archive calendar for November and December 2013. (Along the right hand column of the blog.) The key tips are to do what feels right to you without worrying what anyone else says. If that means not celebrating this year or doing so in a new way, so be it. And, if you want, find a way to integrate your dad. Maybe buy a special ornament, light a candle when you’re thinking of him or donate money to a charity in his honor in lieu of a gift. The holidays are definitely a challenge 🙁 We are here for you.
Melanie says
I lost my dad to suicide (hanging) 3 yrs ago, every single day is a struggle, my two baby boys were 1 yrs old and 4 month old and when I look back I do not know how I managed to get through but thank my boys for giving me a reason to carry on. My dad was a professional singer and saxophonist (self taught- a very handsome and talented man and I am lucky to have my memories going to see him sing I was his biggest fan. Life has changed drastically my family ( even smaller now) are smashed to pieces I have to think dad gives me daily strength to get on. I feel hurt anger upset abandonment deprived these are only a few words I can give and is no where near how it feels. Why dad…. I just hope you’re in a happier place and the darkness has gone. So much more should be done for mental health I hope I can help others in time. Miss you TLJ … Melly xxxx always love you xxx