Through the Valley

October 5, 1998 was a terrible day, one that would forever change my life. It was one of the worst work days I had ever had. I was a supervisor of a residential program for developmentally delayed adults, and an autistic client was so out of control, she bit a full soda can until it burst. Because this client was having such a bad day, I was called back into work later that evening- my staff’s interventions were not working.

I was at work at 8:00 that night when my husband showed up, crying. My husband is a typical guy… he doesn’t cry much. We had been married for two years at the time, and crying was something that he had almost never done… something was terribly wrong. He took me outside and looked me in the eye and said “Your dad died.” I looked up at him and said, “Did he have a heart attack?” He said, “No - He committed suicide.” Everything stood still. I burst into tears and collapsed into my husband’s arms.

I wish you could have known my dad. He was a simple, hard working, relaxed man. He was a roofer. He enjoyed cutting wood, watching the Phillies play baseball on TV, eating a good steak, and napping on his favorite recliner. He served in the Army in Vietnam. He loved mowing the grass. He loved going to his favorite diner and drinking coffee - especially at Dunkin Donuts. He loved cars, grilling out, and working. By all accounts he was a regular American guy.

He was a good Dad. He taught me how to drive. He supported everything I did. He drove me around to all my band practices and youth events. He provided for me financially until I got married. He was also a great grandfather. He loved spoiling his granddaughter.

What we didn’t know at the time is that there was more to Dad that we either didn’t see or he hid well… or maybe he didn’t see either. In hindsight, I can see that he was depressed. Nothing out of the ordinary from a lot of guys his age… but things can add up. He was getting older and could not physically do his work as well and without being in pain, so his business probably was not what it could have been. Change was difficult for him, so he did not change to newer techniques that could have helped him do his job easier. I was married and on my own, living several states away. My brother had just gotten married six months prior to Daddy dying. Maybe he thought he wasn’t needed as much. I could spend years trying to get inside his head… but really all I can do is speculate.

Statistically, my dad fell into a lot of risk categories. He was a 51 year old caucasian male with no hobbies and limited social supports. There is probably some history of mental health issues in his family background (most people did not talk about these things then). He was at the empty nest syndrome stage of life. Business and culture were changing around him and he struggled to adapt. He was not one to talk about his problems or ask for help. He had to be tough. He did not share emotions. As I look back on it, he seemed quiet. I thought he was content, but there was probably much more under the quiet, relaxed demeanor.

Since my dad died, I have spent my life helping people. I have been a child care worker in a children’s home, and a therapist working with people with a variety of problems from depression, to addiction problems. I have also worked in emergency mental health services for several years intervening when people are suicidal, homicidal or need detox. I have talked to a lot of depressed people, suicidal people and people generally in crisis. I have had the privilege of walking people through the worst parts of their lives, and coming out on the other side. Through the years, I think about my dad, and those last moments before he died. While I will never know exactly what was going on in his head that day, I know my dad was hurting. He was in pain, a deep pain, a pain he could no longer live with.

Through the years I have realized I am not alone. There are a lot of us “survivors” out there. People who have lost a loved one by their own hand. We have struggled with guilt, anger, frustration, pain, loneliness, we have grieved for time lost, dreams unfulfilled. We have questioned our words, actions, thoughts and worst, things we did not do. We have regrets, now painful memories and dreams unfulfilled. We wish we could have one more chance to intervene. We wish we could at least have one more chance to say good-bye or to have one more memory. How I wish I could hear my dad’s story, really listen to what was going on in his heart that day he decided to leave us.

But now, I wanted to share my story I wanted to share how I got through this darkness, finding healing and peace. I wanted to share hope. We survivors can heal. We can overcome. We can move forward. Even while things are dark, there is LIGHT. The journey is hard, but peace is possible.