Hey Dad,
It has been nearly two years since you decided that it was your time to go.
I had just headed back to school to take on my second semester of college when your suicide came in and knocked me down like that huge wave did the first time you took me to the beach. You remember that day, don’t you? I was too scared to go out into the ocean alone, so you agreed to come with me. As we were making our way out, a big wave came and knocked us both over. I was terrified, but you picked me back up and told me not to worry because I would be safe if you were there, but you weren’t there to pick me up this time. So, once I fell, I couldn’t get up. Instead, I laid there and I cried. I cried for hours until I was drowning in my own tears. Once I came home, my eyes dried up like the sand at low tide because I had to be the strong one. Since you and Mom were divorced and I had just turned 19, I was now fully responsible for the mess that you left behind in your wake and legally required to clean it all up.
Do you have any idea what your death did to everyone? Mom stayed in bed for months and she still cries whenever she sees your picture. Your dad got super sick and would call out for you to help him in his sleep every night until he finally passed a few months ago. On Jennifer’s 8th birthday, we found her lying on the ground crying and begging for a shovel so she could go dig you up. Corina is still haunted from having to cut you down from that tree that still stands in the front yard. And you know where I was? Pretending that I was okay so everyone else could feel like they could depend on me.
You took so much from me—I fell into a deep depression that took away my motivation to do anything, my GPA took a tailspin, and I began to push everyone away because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone close to me while I was trying to recover from your loss. Your leaving made me feel like I wasn’t enough like I wasn’t a good enough daughter for you to want to stay. You said goodbye to everyone but me—all I received was a text asking how the weather was in Charlottesville that day. Why didn’t I get a goodbye? I wasn’t even there to see it happened, but for the longest time, whenever I thought of you, all I could see was this image I had fabricated of you hanging there.
Now, here I am, two years later, and I still haven’t really recovered. In the beginning, I blamed you. I blamed it all on you. I blamed you for everyone’s pain. I blamed you for my pain. I blamed you for my inability to recover like I thought I should have been able to. But, what I learned is, I don’t think you can recover from something like this. I don’t think it is as simple as just putting it behind you and continuing. I think that you have to relearn how to live. So, that’s what I am doing, I am relearning how to live. Some days are harder than others. Some days I still blame you and some days I still hate you, but every day I miss you.
As I look forward to my future, it breaks my heart to know that you won’t see me graduate college, that you won’t be there to walk me down the aisle, and that you will never meet your grandkids. I wish you would have stayed around a little longer. I wish that we could have shared one more cup of coffee and picked flowers for Grandma one last time. I wish I knew that the last time I saw you would have been the last time that I would ever see you.
I miss you. I love you. I hate you. I’m still learning how to forgive you.
Love,
Jamie
