Tuesday, October 20, 2015
My Father's Suicide: On Finality
No one ever wants to believe that the life we're living now is finite, that there will be a time when everything is just a memory, that no matter how much we fight or rage against the changing of the tide, things will change. Nothing lasts forever, and that can be a very hard pill to swallow.
Then a few months ago, I had a dream about my father. A lot of my other dreams have been about having one last day with him or discovering that he was leading a double life and had another family -- all very psychologically telling, I know. Anyway, in this new dream, he came back and I actually felt sorry for him. I was so happy to see him. I hugged him, and surprisingly, I felt zero anger toward him. It was actually a freeing feeling, to be able to look at him and to genuinely start missing him.
I woke up and realized just how much I really do miss that. We all have armloads of baggage and a laundry list of things we wish we'd done differently, and if we're not careful, we start to forget the weight of all that. Before we know it, we're carrying it around with us every single day. I don't want that anger to be the legacy I carry. I don't want that to be my definition of finality... xoxo
[Photo of my father on vacation in Virginia]