I was 28 years old when my father committed suicide. I received a call around 10:30 on a Sunday night from my gramps saying my dad had done away with himself. I was in disbelief and called right back, was he dead or on the way to the hospital? He was dead. Shotgun thru the mouth.
My dad had been telling me for almost six months he was going to kill himself, trust me when I say you can’t talk to someone out of suicide who has made up their mind, I tried every time while crying with tears. My dad was delusional on our phone calls, saying someone was recording his phone conversations and was out to get him.
He was so mentally unstable he had not been able to work and was running out of money, I found this out later. But he did say he was having money problems so I paid all his bills but things didn’t change.
He would call yelling, hysterical that he didn’t want to live and was going to take his life. There aren’t any Red Gun laws in our state so I could not call the police to go take any guns away from him. I didn’t know for sure he had any.
This delusional talk went on for months until the night he made good on his word. I wasn’t surprised but you still don’t want to believe.
I rushed to my grandparent’s house, they had already been notified by the police. My dad clearly stated in his note to go to the house personally to tell them. He knew my granny would be broken into pieces and she was inconsolable. Her only child was dead. Because of my overwhelming guilt, I told everyone daddy told me he was going to kill himself, I needed them to know. Nobody said anything.
I was given a copy of his note saying that I had to take care of everything including a couple of people to call. He said he couldn’t live on this earth any longer, he was in too much pain. the truth is my father had Bipolar Disorder and had a mental breakdown. It had the number of the Suicide Hotline number at the top of the page but they couldn’t tell me if he called.
Going to his house the next day was shocking! It was in total disarray, dishes in the sick, no food in the fridge, papers strung out all over the living room. He had his bible out turned to Job with tear stains and my parent’s divorce papers by his lockbox. In his lockbox was every card I had ever given him since I was a child.
His bedroom was more organized except beside his bed. There were seven boxes of cassette tapes on the floor. I knew these were recordings he had made of what he thought were people tracking his calls. I listened to every one of those tapes, tears rolling down my face, only hearing my dad talking and background noise. He heard nothing, it was in his head.
The bathroom door was shut, no doubt covered in blood from floor to ceiling. I wanted to go in to confirm he was dead but my granny said if I went she would too and I could not let her see that.
My gramps and one of his friends cleaned the bathroom the following day. We didn’t know there were companies you could call who would clean for you. I don’t know how my gramps did it, how he was able to clean the blood of his step-son after his death. He is the strongest man I know.
You can’t imagine how hard it is to have a closed casket service. You can’t process they are truly dead and it haunts you.
My granny was never the same, she was numb for years but even after her grieving, she was lost without her son.
You are never the same after a loved one commits suicide even if had a troubled relationship which we did. We basically stopped talking except for the holidays after I moved out of his house. There is much more to the story of living there that I have not talked about. I will say he was one of my abusers.
I forgave my father. It didn’t make things right, he was mentally ill. I haven’t forgotten but have forgiven him.
I’m not saying don’t try to talk someone out of suicide, please do! Many people don’t really want to and are crying out for help, you can give or get that for them. If they do carry out their plan to end their life, please try not to carry the guilt too long, talk to a therapist.
I’m here if you need to talk.