Dear Dad,

It’s been over a year since we got the call. Over a year since we were told you were found collapsed. Over a year since you chose the bottle over us. Over a year since you took your life into your own hands and chose to end it.

Over a year since our lives changed. 

For better or for worse. 

I never could have guessed how I was going to feel when this day came. I begged for this day so many times. I thought I was more than ready. But, even upon your exit, you surprised me. Your death surprised me. 

In the last almost 18 months, I have had to process a plethora of feelings I never knew my life would be plagued with. People talk about the stages of grief that you go through after a loss, and I never thought I would face all stages after the loss of you. In all honesty, I thought it would have been a relief. 

A weight off my shoulders. 

Instead, the chest plates that got added on were insurmountable. 

Denial:

I did not believe the day was here. We have gone back and forth for so many years on the ‘scare’ of your death. I felt prepared due to going through this preparation several times before. You could not have been gone. 

You weren’t gone. 

I sat by the phone. I waited for the angry texts. I kept my armor on ready for the blow of the “F*** you” and “I don’t need you” phone calls. In my mind, those weren’t over. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that that era has ended. It became such a norm in my life and I was ready for the next Groundhog Day. 

You weren’t gone. 

I called your phone. I checked your bank account activity. I paid your bills. I waited. 

You weren’t gone.

I re-read your texts. I looked at pictures. I listened to your voicemails. I waited. Nothing.

You were gone. 

Anger

This stage hit me harder than I expected. I was angry at you.

I was angry at the pile of work you left us kids.

I was angry at the life choices you made.

I was angry at all of the years you manipulated your family, friends, our mother, and your kids.

I was angry at the abuse. I was angry and the anger you projected our way throughout the years. I felt rage. I screamed. I cried. I screamed while crying. 

I was angry that you held such ‘power’ over me.

I was angry that you made me this angry. 

Bargaining

I always expected this to be a phase that would never take place once you were gone. What would I have to bargain? Why would I bargain to keep you here? The unfortunate truth is, I wouldn't. At least not directly.

I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't speak words out to the universe that I'd change X, Y, and Z in life just to get you back. I didn't wish you were back. In all honesty, there was a weird pull of relief in the first few months. But, make no mistake, there was absolutely bargaining that took place.

Bargaining to turn back the clock. Not directly related to get you back, but instead, the desire to go back in time was driven to change my actions. To ensure I didn't miss a step. To ensure I did everything I could to remove me from the list of 'causes' of your death. I mean, I was running your life up until a short period before you died.

Did I give up? Yes.

Did I regret it? Yes.

Did I fight with a 'higher power' and beg to go back in time? Yes.

Did it work? No.

Depression:

Darkness.

So much darkness.

I knew this phase would come eventually, but I thought... How bad could it get for a man that seemed to hate me and that I seemed to hate?

[Insert evil laugh]

Darkness.

I ran into this brick wall going 120 mph with no seatbelt. This wall broke me. The pressure on my chest all day, every day -- draining my breath and energy as I'm treading water. The weights are connected to a rope tied around my ankles, dragging me to the depths of the abyss.

Nothing could help. Nothing could save me in that moment.

How could I be a good spouse when I couldn't swim? I couldn't.

How was I able to be a good mom in this moment when I couldn't breathe? I wasn't.

All of the tears, anger, sadness, despair swirling faster and faster until the world went quiet. Stuck in this rotation.

I felt hopeless.

Not to the point where I'd want to cause the end.

I felt tired.

Tired to the point where I was content with sleeping. And not wake.

The level of comfort that thought brought me, scared me.

Something needed to change.

Acceptance:

I made the change. I got the help. I learned to grieve. Grieve it all. Grieve what was and what never was (talk about a confusing therapy tactic). But, it worked.

I cried the much needed tears. I recognized what I could never control (no matter how hard I tried). I learned that you loved me in the capacity you were able to.

I am at peace with knowing I did everything I could in the position I was put in.

I am at peace knowing I'm a damn good daughter, sister, friend, spouse, and mom.

I am at peace knowing that peace exists.

I loved my life before your death. I love my life after your death. I love my future that life is offering.

As I write this letter, I recognize this as not only a goodbye letter but also a hello letter. Goodbye to the last chapter of my previous book. Hello to my first chapter of my next book.

I hope you found the peace you were looking for for so long. Because I did.

Until I see you again, I love you.

Love,

Me