The First Easter without my Dad.

My Dad com­mit­ted sui­cide on Decem­ber 31, 2009.  I never thought that pre­vi­ous state­ment would be pos­si­ble.  My Dad was a strong, can do man.  How­ever, on Decem­ber 31 he said he “can­not” for the first time.  He did not want to live.  I wish I had known there was some­thing wrong.  I wish I could hug him one more time and tell him how much I loved him and admired him.  I was always so proud of my Dad but did not tell him.

Every­one grieves in dif­fer­ent ways.  My way was anger and denial.  I was mad at him.  How could he do this to my Mom, kids and grand­chil­dren.  My anger also turned to my mother.  What did she say to him before he did this.  How could she miss the signs.  My rela­tion­ship with my mother has always been del­i­cate since the day I was born.  How­ever, the death of my father has made it where I don’t have a rela­tion­ship at all with her.   I miss her and I am let­ting her have her space.  I hope that one day we can sit down and work things out.  My par­ents would have been mar­ried for 48 years last month.  I can only imag­ine how hard it has to be for her not to have her rock, her love, her best friend with her.

It was easy to be in denial of my father’s death because I could just pre­tend that he was at home with my Mom and since I have not been over to the house then I did not have to face it.   Fri­day, Good Fri­day, it hit me like a brick. I was get­ting gas and my car would not start.  I tried not to panic and opened the hood and checked things but still would not start.  I got back in my car and started to call my Dad.   My Dad was always there for me when I needed him.   I then real­ized that I could not call my Dad.  I would never be able to call my Dad for help again.  It was at that moment that I really truly began to grieve my father.  How would I make it with out my Dad to be there when I needed help.  I cried harder than I ever had before and have been this week­end.  My “Daddy” is gone and will not be com­ing back.

My old­est son came over this morn­ing and gave me a stuffed bunny this morn­ing and spent a lit­tle bit of time before he went to the fam­ily gath­er­ing that I was not invited to.  I am grate­ful for him and did make it a lit­tle eas­ier today.   I sit at home today with my car not work­ing, with­out my fam­ily, no Easter din­ner but all of that is so sec­ondary to my Dad is not here.   I can get my car fixed and try to work on my fam­ily rela­tion­ships but there is noth­ing I can do to bring my Dad back.

My Dad is in a bet­ter place and it is because of Jesus Christ that my Dad was for­given of his sins and I believe spend­ing his first Easter up in heaven with Jesus him­self.  I have a ten­dency to be agnos­tic but I must believe in God or I would not think that my father was in heaven.

Thank you for read­ing my very first blog post.  Please remem­ber to tell peo­ple in your life how much they mean to you while you have a chance.

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7 thoughts on “The First Easter without my Dad.

  1. Though we’ve never met, I remem­ber our tweets about your father’s death, and about your recent inci­dent with the car. Sud­den loss of a par­ent is hard I know, loss to sui­cide has to be extra­or­di­nar­ily harder. You have a lot of wounds with both the liv­ing and the dead, but I believe you are already on the path to heal­ing. Your con­fi­dence in Christ is well placed, even if you don’t have it all worked out yet. Keep explor­ing that rela­tion­ship, He’s our hope in this world and the next.

    Peace!

    Pressly

  2. I lost both my father and mother last fall of ’09 and my rela­tion­ship with my only sis­ter is not strong, so I really have no imme­di­ate fam­ily at this time. The hol­i­days since they have passed away have been hard, I miss them every­day and know where you are com­ing from. All I can do is try to be the best per­son that I can be and honor their mem­ory. I can think of noth­ing else to say at this point, but thank you so much for your blog.

  3. Your blog really hits close to the heart for me… even though the cir­cum­stances are dif­fer­ent… I know what it is like to be with­out the peo­ple you love… for me, it is my grandparents.

    And like you, I believe they are in Heaven… not bur­dened with the trou­bles of this earthly life… but while I am glad in my heart for them, I am also sad because they aren’t here with me. They were the steady rocks of my child­hood… as mypar­ents and I ham­mered out our own dif­fi­cult relationships.

    As time has passed since their deaths, I have been able to accept their absence in my life… the pain is not as great as it was in the first years… it hasn’t gone away, there are still days I think about call­ing them or vis­it­ing them… but I can han­dle it now.

    I hope that as you build your other rela­tion­ships (spir­i­tual and familial)…that you will gain peace about your father. No mat­ter what was obvi­ously trou­bling him, he would not want you to suf­fer this anguish. I am sure he wishes you joy and happiness.

    ((( hug )))

  4. trish, i am proud of you for mak­ing the best of this sit­u­a­tion, which so much is out of your control.

    i love you

  5. Oh honey, this must be so hard for you , and I can only imag­ine what you are going through. I hate to see you going through this. Please let me know if there is any­thing I can do, and I will be here for you any­time. I really hope you feel bet­ter soon.

  6. Trish, I know this has been a very dif­fi­cult time for you. I wish I’d known your car wasn’t working…please don’t hes­i­tate to call me for any­thing you may need. I may not be able to actu­ally help you get a car run­ning again, but we can both sit there on the side of the road look­ing cute…LOL. ;o)

    Think of it this way, this has really helped me get through the deaths of my sis­ter and my mother…
    you have a won­der­ful guardian angel. He is with you always, even though you can’t see him. He knows you love him and that you were( are ) proud of him.
    I love ya.

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