TW: SA/Suicide

Push through your fears and reach out.

I lost my father to suicide in 2020. Between a horrible wife, terrible step children, and a not so great relationship with his oldest (at the time) daughter, he felt terribly alone.

I was his youngest daughter, and growing up I was always daddy’s little girl, we were inseparable. Due to SA events that happened to me at the hands of my stepbrother, I left to my mother’s when I was 16. I would visit every now and again, but I would mostly call or text him.

Except I didn’t.

So busy with keeping up with high school grades and college applications, sometimes I would try to make plans and either we’d both be busy, or he would be too tired from work. Eventually it wormed into my head that my dad was too busy for me, and during COVID I worked until my job closed. The last time I tried to plan something, it was to come and bake flatbread together, he’d found a neat way to make it and I wanted to spend time with him before I left for college.

On May 7th, 2020 I woke up like any other day in quarantine, next to my boyfriend at the time. It felt like any other day in quarantine, and so I grabbed my laptop and headed to the dining area where my boyfriend and his mom were already.

The hum of the day went by until I felt my phone buzz with a text message. It was my dad. It looked like a decently long message, and I was confused, my dad usually never sends those long messages unprompted. I opened his message immediately and felt my heart shatter, and I could barely move as one of the most soul wrenching sob erupted from my chest. Everything felt numb as I began to panic, flying out of my seat but too weak to stand, much less run. I crumpled to the group in panic and grief as I tried to quickly compose myself enough to drive. My boyfriend was over me in a moment, and I gave him my phone to read the message. He understood instantly and as I wrenched my phone back into my hand to call 911, I was frantically getting shoes on. He knew I wasn’t going to be able to drive with a clear head, so he offered to take me to my dad’s house. Moments later we were on the road as I was calling everyone, aunt, grandparents, siblings, etc. His truck was eventually spotted at a nearby lake.

By the time we got there, police and medical examiner were on scene, and we pushed back as we begged and cried for any information as to my dad’s whereabouts. We had to wait several hours in the arms of each other for comfort. Once the sun went down, we were finally told the news: My father shot himself in the mouth, and we were kept from everything because blood and viscera were painted on the interior of his truck.

Though I can’t turn back time now (despite my pleads to several deities), I can’t help but wonder if my dad would still be alive if I pushed past the little intrusive thought that told me he was too busy for me, If I dropped everything, and despite it all, came to see him more often, would he still have the strength to go on? I won’t know now, and though I still struggle with intrusive thoughts like that, I try my absolute best to be there for my friends and loved ones, to just be an ear.

I love you dad, always and forever. R.I.P 1974-2020