Mandy is an only child of a parent of suicide. She hopes to help others through her articles and hopes to meet others along the way.
As I started to process all my information that my uncle had told me, I couldn’t help but to think why my Dad hadn’t told me any of this. But I couldn’t think about the past, I had to process and move forward. When I had gotten home that night I remember my fiancée looking at me and asking why I was so pale. I told him we needed to talk. We sat at the kitchen table for a few hours and he just listened.
This was also the same thing that happened over the next couple of days as well. I took a lot of time to reflect. Also in talking to my fiancée he made a comment to me that has stuck with me the entire time. He said, “Babe this is stuff we’ve all seen but you’ve been blind too because you were brought up in this and didn’t know any different.” What he meant was there were things that were also discussed with my uncle (that I don’t feel comfortable talking about on here) and it was things that he saw just being in the family for a couple of years. As I processed all of these thoughts and such I started beginning to really dislike my mom. I felt like SHE should’ve been the one to notice things, but she was so involved in herself she didn’t take time too notice. I discovered she was very very concerned about herself. I mean if she didn’t notice signs of struggling from someone, who now I could look back and could see clearly, what else did she ignore. Now, in saying this, I also blamed myself for not picking up signs. I had been out of the house for over 10 years at this point though and only saw my Dad for a day and a half a week. The days I saw him he was completely “normal“ to me. Always excited to see me and the girls. Always loved playing and getting on the floor to be with them. Just his happy, jolly self. But there were signs. I DID notice how short his nerves were. My mom would want him to write out our food order to call in, and I noticed how shaky he was, how his concentration on things was very limited. It would take him awhile to write a word. He also made a comment in his #suicide note that now struck me. He always had a love of word searches. I remember from the time he was young, he’d always have one on vacation. He did word searches like some people read books. And he made a comment about how long it now took to complete just one puzzle. He had told my mom the night before that it took him almost two hours to just find a couple words.When I asked him about being shaky he would always make nonchalant comments about why his nerves were shot. He would point to my mom and say, “Can you blame me?” She would always make comments to him when he’d make a mistake and make fun of him. I specifically remember when he was working one day and installing a garage door and a spring came loose and cut his finger off. I remember my mom calling me and telling me that “Well I guess your dad will be out of work now, so this should be fun.” The man had just cut his finger off.
As I look back now I tried very hard not to be that person who pointed fingers. But damnit I was pointing a finger because I knew there were factors that she caused. After a few days I wanted to sit down with her. I wanted to share things with her. I called her and told her I wanted to do so. She immediately got upset and started her “You don’t love me crap.” When I had got to her house I remember we sat down to talk and she was more worried about how he looked when I found him then what I was trying to tell her. I finally snapped and told her, “Just remember that morning before you left for work. Remember that kiss. Remember his smell. (He always wore the best colognes.” She just kept pushing and pushing. I finally broke and told her. She sat stone cold, and pale. It was then I started telling her some of my thoughts and opinions. She immediately became defensive. Everything was my fault. She told me, “Well if you think you were perfect and you didn’t do things to upset your Dad you’re wrong.” It made me stop in my tracks. ME? She was trying to pin this on me. I wanted to talk to her about my feelings and she was blaming me. It was then that I realized my mom wasn’t who I thought she was. She was just like who my Dad always said she was. I ended up leaving that day so mad and fed up. I came home and just cried. She was blaming ME for this. I tried to keep my tears at a minimum around my girls. Both of my girls share my sensitivity to things, and when they see mommy upset its a whole new level of distress for them. I put my girls to bed that night and sat and we talked and awhile. I couldn’t believe that I was being blamed for something so horrible. As I sat lost and confused I remembered the one thing that kept me going. My Dad. I remembered our great times. Our fun trips. Our fun daddy/daughter times. I went to bed that night a little more aware. I laid there and I said a small prayer to my Dad. Just asking him to show me a sign he loved me and was still with me. That night I had a dream about him, and in the dream he told me how much he loved me and was sorry. When I woke that next morning I was very relaxed. I decided that I wasn’t going to bring things up to my mom anymore until me head was where it should be and I was healed more.
The next few months I didn’t say anything to her. I let things happen. The only time I saw her was when she’d ask to keep the girls for a weekend. She’d check on me from time to time but mostly it was about the girls. I did however let her know a few times about herself. As the months went on I felt more and more comfortable finally to say things to her as I needed. One thing I did find that helped were a few books that I had found on Amazon. I will link those below. The books I chose wisely with because I wanted to learn how to heal, and wanted to learn more about how a suicidal persons brained work. I wanted to know why.