Tuesday, January 06, 2015
My Father's Suicide: For those left behind...
I found myself thinking about my father a lot during the holidays this year. Or maybe it was more like I was thinking about our old life. Whichever it was, one thing was crystal clear: I was thinking about it a lot more than in years past. I'm not all too sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but my gut says it's a good thing. There were so many times I caught myself starting a sentence with, "Remember the time Father...?" The spontaneous memory either elicited a smile or a playful eye roll as I remembered one of my father's annoying little quirks -- i.e. he'd spend a few minutes brushing off the bottoms of his feet before he'd even put his socks on. His. Sock. Who does that...? ;)
And, yes, some of these memories were sad. But you know what? They were all real. Every last one of them. They were the memories that add up to the stories of my life, and more importantly, the story of my father's life.
Because these memories? They're my way of keeping my father alive. They make the past feel within reach again, which can be so incredibly comforting at times, especially when you feel like your life now and your life with your loved one are two separate, completely different lives.
P.S. On milestones, three things I've learned about bonding with my father, memory bells and symbolic dreams.
[Photos via We Heart It]