Death, Depression

The Story of My Father: Death

When I switched this blog to be Purl Moon instead of Rainbows and Sunshine, I accidentally deleted literally all my old posts. I was heartbroken because that blog had helped me to crawl, fighting tooth and nail, out of the hole I had plunged into after my father’s death.

There was one post in particular that really was important because it was the raw story of his suicide. The whole truth of it.

I cried over it’s deletion.

Literal tears.

So here goes again, I’ll write another one. It’s been 4 years since I wrote the original post so I don’t know what was in it completely. I just know the story in my heart.

The day before the actual death occured, we had drove up to the Rock Creek Lodge (home of Testy Fest and the best Rocky Mountain Oysters). My father was renting a spot for his trailer there. Our visit went mostly normal. He seemed upset, but he was drunk living alone in a camper behind a bar. There wasn’t really a baseline for normal, so I didn’t know at the time to be concerned.

I know this is going to sound vain, but one of the things he had said to me that day was how beautiful my hair was when it was long, and it was getting long at that point. It was three inches below my boobs, which for me it was a record. (It took me over 3 years to get my hair cut after this.)

He played with my oldest and we only spent about an hour up there. My boyfriend at the time was really selfish, and just not a nice person. He was mad about something and upset he had to go out there with me. The only reason I took him was because he asked. (For whatever reason.)

The next day he called me right as I was getting into the shower to get ready for work. I silenced the ring on the call so I could get ready and not be late. Then I deleted the voicemail halfway through thinking I would call him on my break.

I worked at Burger King at the time and that night we had a bus and so I didn’t get a break. It was a crazy busy day so I didn’t end up calling him. The police said that call, the call that he had made to me was the last outgoing call on his phone.

This happened on a Wednesday. That Wednesday I fell into a sad stage, which is normal with me, it was so deep. I was just sad, I didn’t call my dad after work that night because I just went to bed. That night my son also got Roto virus so we were in the ER for half of it because he couldn’t keep anything down.

Fast forward to Saturday. I was house sitting at my mom’s while her, my step-dad, and my sister were backpacking. I get a call from the sheriff and he asked where I was and said he needed to talk to me. I gave him my mom’s address and waited. I was so scared I thought my mom and sister had fallen off a cliff backpacking or something. I didn’t even have any thought to prepare for what I was about to be told.

The thing that makes me the most upset to this day about that situation was, he asked me to put out my cigarette, then tells me the worst news I have ever heard in my entire life.

“I’m sorry ma’am, your father was shot”

“Where is he? Is he okay? Where did he get shot?

“There was a note.”

“Is he okay?”

“No it was fatal.”

Que panic, my heart started racing. He gave me some information and I said I needed him to talk to my brother. So I call my brother…who works nights at 10 in the morning. He answered the phone:

“Oh god what fresh hell is this?”

“Dad’s dead and the sheriff wants to talk to you, I need you to come to mom’s.”

“I’ll get on some pants.”

I didn’t know what to do, I felt so lost and so hollow. My mom was out of town, my dad was dead. I could have broke the news to my brother better, but we’re kind of a blunt family. We just say what it is and deal with the emotions later.

So basically, my dad shot himself. It destroyed my entire world. I probably will never be the same again. I definitely know that I will never get over it.

How do you deal with the loss of a parent? Especially when they chose to die. To leave.

Granted it’s selfish to think of how selfish of the act. I can only piece together how he felt. He was my very best friend. I could have listened to him talk for hours and be perfectly happy. I miss the things he had to say.

I don’t even know how to finish this post so I think I will just leave off here. His birthday was on May 30th, and I wanted to post this then, but I couldn’t bring myself to finish typing it. So instead of typing I ate half a thing of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream and cried all day.

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