I feel as though the walls are slowly closing in around me, suffocating me with each passing moment. The air feels scarce as if I am running out of breath, struggling to find solace in this world. It seems that once again, I am shutting down, succumbing to the weight of my emotions. It wasn’t just my father who perished on that fateful day; a significant part of me died alongside him. Since then, my existence has been consumed by a desperate longing for something to happen, for me to join him in the afterlife. Never take for granted the presence of those you hold dear, for you never know when fate will summon them back to the heavens.
Oh, how I would give anything for just a mere five minutes with my dad. It has been three decades, and yet the pain remains as raw as ever. I yearn to express my love for him, but anger festers within me, for he departed when I needed him most. His self-inflicted demise remains an enigma, forever shrouded in mystery. I was but a child when he left, burdened with the weight of guilt for his untimely end. I feel undeserving of love and care, unworthy of any semblance of happiness. Since that day, I have relentlessly punished myself, year after year. As the anniversary of his suicide draws near, the thought of ending my own suffering becomes a tempting prospect, as if it would grant me a chance to reunite with him in the afterlife.
My father was lost to suicide, a mere four days after Christmas, when I was just fifteen years old. The pain that has plagued me these past thirty years defies description. If only I could turn back time to that final day I saw him, on Christmas Day. I would pour out my love instead of engaging in pointless arguments and behaving like a petulant child. That is one regret I cannot overcome. The last words I uttered to my father were far from kind or loving, and I shall never forgive myself for that. If only I had known it was our final encounter, I would have clung to him, refusing to let go. I understand that this post deviates from my usual blog entries, and for that, I apologize. However, I am currently engulfed in this overwhelming sorrow, yearning for my father’s presence, with no friends or family to turn to. Thus, I have chosen to release some of this anguish through my blog.
In the midst of the pain and sorrow that comes with the anniversary of my dad’s suicide, I find solace in sharing my story. By following and commenting on my posts, you can provide a sense of support and understanding that is much needed during this difficult time.
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