My Father-Born December 22, 1969-Died July 8, 2011

I thought about this blog all week long. See, in my heart I am a writer. I love to write but having kids has taken my time away from it. So, naturally when I was going through all of this, I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to write it all down.


Last Friday, July 8, 2011 was a stressful day. I had errands to run, went to Walmart where my children were less than behaved and the cashier was the most disrespectful customer service lady I have encountered. After two hours, I left the store in tears. I was also babysitting. At home I proceeded to tell the kids to go play while I got everything put away and had some time to cool down after the less than pleasant experience I just had. Amongst all of it, I got online to check my Facebook, where I found a message that said "I just found out my dad hung himself." on my brother's page. (I found out later he posted it because he couldn't get ahold of anyone) I immediately panicked and called the only person I could think of the time, my Aunt. I asked what was going on and she proceeded to tell me that my father had killed himself. I dropped to the ground sobbing in disbelief. I was alone with 4 kids waiting for my husband to get home from work. I called my husbands phone then his work and finally he called me back, I screamed through my tears into the phone that he needed to come home now...that my father killed himself. When he hung up I started calling the people I thought could help me, I don't really know why I called anyone, out of panic I suppose. First my friend, then my adoptive parents and etc. I didn't know all the details and so I called my Aunt back. Thats when I found out that my father hung himself.


What? I was in total shock, he did what? Why? Are they sure? I talked to my Uncle who was at the scene sorting everything out and my Aunt several times as we were both in shock. I called the child I babysit for mother to tell her to come get him and I talked on the phone and online to many people in a short amount of time. When my husband got home I cried, my oldest son was crying and hysterical and all I could do was sob. I didn't want to leave my kids but I needed to "do" something. I ended up going to my grandma's house and being there helped. I was there until 1 a.m. making phone calls, talking to family and crying. All of us were in shock.


Saturday came and it was time to make funeral arrangements and that was a very hard experience. There is nothing more painful than family fighting and the "simplicity" but "price" in the decision making when  someone dies. I never want to do that again. It took 4 hours and lots of tears and the arrangements where made. That night my brother and I went to our father's house and gathered his belongings. I collected things dear to me and dear to my boys. I even found a recording with his voice on it. It was painful, unreal and made me uneasy. While I was there, I stood where he died and my heart sank. None of this made any sense to me. I left and got home to my boys. Which was hard in itself, I had been away from them for a long time, the baby the longest. I felt so disconnected with everything.


Sunday I had to take the funeral home his clothes and go to my Uncle's to get pictures done for his memorial. The rest of the day is kind of a blur.


Monday my husband was able to be at home, his boss, knowing the circumstances told him to take the time off needed to be with me. For this I am so grateful, even more so that he is a fellow Christian. My grandma and I met with our Pastor to go over everything at 1 p.m. I don't remember much of Monday except I went to see my dad for the first time since he died. He looked like he was sleeping and I couldn't bear to touch him. But once I was alone I sat with him and told him how sorry I was and how he didn't have to do this and how much I loved him and was going to miss him. I was there for 2 hours. Afterwards with a friend of mine, we went to the store grabbed dinner and went home and worked on photo boards until 2 a.m.

Tuesday we took care of the kids and spent the day cleaning and etc. His visitation was at 6 p.m. I was there at 5 p.m. My husband and my 3 boys came early and my oldest was heart broken. He walked around just sobbing, taking pictures and just taking it all in. My middle son didn't understand and was asking lots of questions. At one point he folded his little arms next to the casket and bowed his head in prayer, knelt down beside him I heard him pray, "Thank you God for my Grandpa." This is something I will never forget. They left early because the emotions were to much for them to stay to long. My husband hugged me, pressed his face against mine and cried. Then they went home and I stayed. Our family stood in a line at the front and greeted everyone, we talked to those we knew and cried. People came that I didn't know and people came that I did, people came that I didn't expect to be there. My adoptive family came, one of my husbands brothers and friends of ours who attended our church came to support us. They played a video of pictures along with songs that meant a lot to each of us. For me it was this song: 

This song means a lot to me because it feels like what my dad would say to me. The night ended and I said goodbye in tears.

Wednesday was the funeral, it was at 10 a.m. and I was there a little after 9 a.m. My boys were spread out amongst Vacation Bible School, my husbands mother and a friend. We sat there and heard some beautiful songs, listened to Pastor talk and I read a poem I found online that felt like what my dad would say: 

When Tomorrow
Starts Without Me

When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see; If the sun should rise and find your eyes,
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry,
the way you did today,
while thinking of the many things,
we didn't get to say.

I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
and each time that you think of me,
I know you'll miss me too;
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try to understand,
that an angel came and called my name,
and took me by the hand,
and said my place was ready,
in heaven far above,
and that I'd have to leave behind,
all those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
for all life, I'd always thought,
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for,
so much yet to do,
it seemed almost impossible,
that I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared,
and all the fun we had.

If I could relive yesterday,
just even for awhile,
I'd say goodbye and kiss you
and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized, that this could never be,
for emptiness and memories,
would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God looked down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne,
He said, "This is eternity,
and all I've promised you".

Today for life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
and since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.

But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true.
Though there were times you did some things,
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven
and now at last you're free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?

So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
for every time you think of me,
I'm right here, in your heart.

I didn't write to poem, but somehow I managed to get through it and I felt peace while reading it. When the ceremony was done, we went to my father one last time and said goodbye. My cousins and brother carried him out the the hurst and we went inside to eat. We talked and when we finished one by one everyone started to leave. After everyone was gone my husband came back from getting our son from VBS and we headed home, unpacked and then headed to my grandmother's for a BBQ. It was an overall good time and the kids had fun. We went home and I prepared for my husband to go back to work the next day.

Thursday was VBS and Bible Study and trying to get the house back in order. 

Friday was stressful as well, we met at the cemetary to put the ashes in the wall. I was with my three boys and my babysitting kid and spent the entire time sweating and fighting to keep my kids close because there was a pond nearby. I received my keepsake urn and a lock of his hair. We said goodbye and I spent 10 minutes after everyone left trying to find my keys, which I had left in the back of the van. We left and I headed to get gas and went and got us milkshakes to cool us down. We headed home and the day was endless because it was exactly one week, at the same time my dad had killed himself. 

Saturday was filled with errands as my husband worked and babysitting and keeping house. I did get to spend the evening with a dear friend and go to dinner and laugh until I cried for the first time in a very long time and definitely the first time in over a week. I am thankful to have had that sort of "break" from reality.

Sunday, today was taking my kids to the Farmers Market and attending the VBS concert for my oldest son. We cleaned the house and put away our veggies from the market, spent time together and tried to relax. 

Everything is hard right now. It's hard because I don't know how to feel, what to say or even what to do. There are so many unanswered questions, so many emotions, regrets, and tears. You think you have all the time in the world, that things like this won't happen and then they do. I've been to funerals, but not to anyone I knew and loved like my dad. I lost my half sister 2 1/2 years ago and that was hard, but not nearly as hard as this. There is so much history here, so many things that didn't get said or time that didn't get spent together. Everyone has regrets, mine are just part of the package. The last time I saw him I was annoyed because he was shaving during my sons Birthday Party, I don't remember saying goodbye to him or even if I hugged him. My husband assures me I did, but I can't remember. He called me on Mother's Day and I was stressed because the baby was sick, the conversation was short and I don't remember if I told him I loved him. I didn't even realize it had been several weeks since we talked. I was so stressed and busy with money and my kids and time just got away from me. I wonder if I would have just called him, if it would have changed his course. He was not the type of man to do this type of thing and we are all struggling. No phone calls, no note, just realizations that something was going terribly wrong with dramatic weight loss, visions of things that weren't there and etc. None of this I was aware of until after he had died and my regret is not making more of an effort, despite my own troubles.

Today I am numb, its hard to cry, its hard to laugh. Its stressful. I'm feeling it, my husband is feeling it and the kids are feeling it. The world moves on, even if you want it to stop and it slows the healing process. I have learned who my true friends are and who I am not really that important to through this and its all becoming a reality of who to and who not to surround myself with. But I am trusting that God will allow him into his kingdom because with his mental illness he was unable to make all the right decisions. I am trying to cope through all of the emotions and trying not to hole myself up away from everyone, because it would be hurtful to many people. We are all trying to find a way to deal. But I am his daughter and through all the bad times, and there were many, there were good times, especially in the end. I believe that it was a struggle for both of us, but there was a peace. I had forgiven his mistakes and he made all the effort he was able to be a part of our lives. He loved my boys, adored them, kissed them, hugged them, played with them. He loved my husband, they talked about cars, etc. and my dad told him how grateful he was that my husband was such a good man. And I know, he loved me. Not just because he told me, but because I felt it. He often told me he was proud of me and after he died many people told me the things he expressed to them about how proud he was and happy he was for me, for the woman I had become, the mother I was and etc.

The good times and the memories are what I am trying to cherish. I don't think I will ever fully understand his decision and the questions that run through my mind. If it was drugs, then it was selfish, but I believe wholeheartedly that it had to of been Demons. I don't believe that he would have done this otherwise, call me crazy, but that's what I believe. So, I am looking to God for answers. I am praying for guidance, for help in understanding. I am praying for clarity on his decision and I am hoping that something makes itself known to me. I need a peace within all of this because to me it is still unreal. His body is now ashes and he is no longer here, but I keep waiting to see him again and when its quite and I am in bed at night, it becomes all to real that, that isn't going to happen any time soon. I am seeking some sign of his presence, but trying to bask in what I know to be God's around me right now. Rest in peace Dad, Rest in peace.