It’s been five years since I lost my dad to suicide. I often think to myself, “how has it been five years?” And that’s when it hits me. That gut wrenching knot in my stomach reminding me that my dad took his life. A reminder that he’s gone. 
A reminder that I will never again hear his voice or receive one of his hugs. Those hugs were best. Sometimes while talking to my husband I find myself asking him, “did that really happen?” Because it wasn’t supposed to. Suicide happens, but it doesn’t happen to me. And then it did. The difference between me today, and me five years ago, is that impact of that gut wrenching knot. It no longer knocks me on the ground. Of course it hurts, but I guess I have come accustomed to it. It is a reminder of his death, but it is also a reminder of a life lived. It is a reminder to live life fully and authentically. To not settle or conform. To ask for help when I need it. To see beyond the surface of those that I hold dear. While I have been introduced to a new kind of pain, I have also found a new way to live. But to find it, I had to let the wind be knocked right out of me.
Hello, it has been 12 years since my father shot himself and I still have a knot in my gut and the wind knocked out me. I still have to pinch myself to know I am alive. I can’t say it gets easier with time for me. I was 39, he died June 2nd and I turned 40 June 29th. We were making plans for him to come live with me..
It has been over 46 years since I lost my father to suicide. I was 9 years old at the time. The open wound in my heart has healed closed but it has left behind much scarred tissue. It is a part of who I have become. I painfully searched for years to understand why and thought of all the what if’s. However, my peace finally came when my prayer changed from questioning to praying for everyone I knew to never have to understand such despair. Life free from that pain is a treasure to hold on to and never take it for granted.