I wanted my Out of the Darkness blog post to be perfect. (It's over on my other blog.) I wanted to include Robin Williams' references and links to my Brad Paisley's posts. I would hide a lucky horseshoe image with Amy Winehouse lyrics. I was going to quote Margaret Atwood (while acting as if I had always known about her Blank Page poem.) And I was going to argue for the importance of being honest.
I realize that perfection is a pretty high standard. That is part of my struggle. Even after all these years, I am still trying to make everything O.K. I made excuses for my father when he was alive and I do it know.
People have asked me if I feel guilty that my father killed himself, as if someone might have a way to help me feel less guilty if I said yes. Fortunately, I don't feel guilty that he shot himself, HOWEVER, I do feel guilty for saying that I made excuses for my father when he was alive. I still feel guilty now for admitting that I made excuses for my father. I still do. I tell my children that my father would have made an excellent grandfather. Would he? Really? He was unreliable the last few years of his live. He was unsafe. I would not have trusted my children with him.
I still love my father. I even respect him. I miss him. I wish that he had turned his life around so that he could have enjoyed his grandchildren. I wish his grandchildren could have known him, but I don't know that he would have been allowed to know them the way he had been acting the last couple years of his life.
I have been lucky to learn from my father's mistakes... at least I hope that I have learned from my father's mistakes, but sometimes I think that I over-correct. I don't always trust my instincts. I know that I am a good father. I know that my kids love me, but there are times when I am confused about this suicide thing.
I know that those of us who have been affected by suicide must talk about it (just as those with epilepsy must talk about it), but it seems as if other people do not want to listen. It feels as if other people intentionally ignore. It seems as if people do not want to engage in a conversation. With suicide, it seems as if people are afraid that they might catch it. I believe that it is important to share our experiences so that people can learn and heal, but I wonder if I am wrong.
because it seems that more people would rather tell a bad suicide joke than have a good conversation.