I was 12 when my dad committed suicide and the event created a terrible mess in my mind. At that age, it's very difficult to process that sort of thing and so, some people shut down and block out. That's what I did; i blocked out so many memories from that time, that i could hardly remember anything at all about my dad. The things that stood out the most were the negative things, but i knew there were good things, too. I just wanted...NEEDED...to remember them.
A year or so ago i emailed my uncle and asked him to tell me about my dad (not my dad's brother, my mom's sister's husband). He said it was too difficult a thing to discuss in email and he would tell me all about my dad next time i saw him. Well, he died a couple months ago without our being able to get together (2 states away) and i felt like i had no one left to ask about my dad (can't really ask my mom any more; she won't answer me).
Last night on the phone, the most amazing thing happened. I was talking to my first real love (Joe) and he told me things he'd never told me before, about time he had spent with my dad while i wasn't home. It was amazing...i sat listening, completely transfixed. He stirred memories in me of my dad that I'm so grateful to have back. And he pointed out things about my dad that i hadn't really thought about, that made me remember and really acknowledge his kind, caring side. He was a good man; a good man who did some bad things when he was younger and because he was ill. But in the end, my dad had a heart. We are so alike, my dad and me, in so many ways. Except that I found a way to live with my demons and he did not.
Dad, I wish I knew you better; I'm sorry you're gone.
Joe, thank you for giving him back to me; i will be forever grateful.
