5 years and counting

I didn't wish for the events to happen five years ago. I hope nothing like it happens to me again, and yet, I am grateful for the experience. I have become a better person, and met many good people along the way.

When my cell phone rang the morning of August 16th, the caller ID listed "Dad cell." We hadn't spoken for two months, and in that time he checked into a detox facility and began attending AA. I assumed that he was doing much better and that he was calling to tell me that my grandmother had died. She had been ill for years.

Instead, my step-mother was on the phone. She was brief. My father had shot himself. He was dead. I was needed in Las Vegas.

During the next year, I often thought about the expression, "that which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." And since I didn't feel as if I was getting stronger, I wondered if I were dying. Every day, I carried the grief. Someone would make a joke about suicide, or a television show would use suicide as a dramatic device, or the news would report something about a "suicide bomber" or a suicide close to home.  I saw suicide everywhere.

And those were only the little reminders. I became my grandmother's legal guardian and learned that my father's drinking and gambling problems spilled into his record keeping. Money disappeared from my grandmother's accounts. There were unexplained charges at casinos and on-line stores. And when I visited the bank for my grandmother, each teller was required to see my paperwork and my father's death certificate. Without thinking, each teller would look at cause of death and read "self inflicted gun shot wound to the head," and then try to continue as if they hadn't seen it.  And this happened every week for several months. These visits became my gauge.  I knew I was getting stronger when I was able to leave the bank without falling apart.

For years, I was angry at the tellers, and the people who would not support me. I wanted more from my friends; I wanted more from strangers. I was quite demanding. I am more understanding now, though I wish that our society would reduce the suicide jokes and increase our compassion for people going through traumatic loss. Humor might help those afraid of experiencing loss, but it doesn't help those of us that have already experienced it...especially those of us in the middle of grief.

My anger has taken a new form though. I remember and appreciate the people that helped me. Some were complete strangers; some were close friends, and some were strangers who have now become close friends. These people knew what I needed and let me know that I would be OK. Some were role models, beautiful role models, who taught me that life can be full even with loss.

I miss my dad. I love my dad. And, I love all of you that have helped me the last five years.

Thank you,

bf

Comments

[CINDY24David]

Some time ago, I needed to buy a house for my business but I did not earn enough cash and could not buy anything. Thank goodness my father proposed to take the personal loans from reliable bank. Hence, I acted so and used to be satisfied with my term loan.

[real estate]

I don't drop a great deal of remarks, but i did some searching and wound up here 5 years and counting (More Than Kids). And I do have a couple of questions for you if it's allright. Could it be simply me or does itt seem like a few of the comments look lie they are written by brain dead people? :-P And, if you are posting at other places, I'd like to keep up with anything new you have to post. Would you make a list of every one of all your shared sites like your linkedin profile, Facebook page or twitter feed?