Submission 114

Dad,

It’s been 16 years since you left us, and yet sometimes it still feels just like yesterday. I go through stages of being ashamed of still grieving, then other times I am more gentle with myself and accepting that I will probably grieve forever. I struggle with the fact that I can remember the day so clearly, even right down to the timings of it, yet the memory of your voice is getting less clear, and I certainly can’t remember your smell anymore.

I am constantly torn between acceptance for why you did what you did, and anger at the fact you did it. One thing I am grateful for is the fact you left a note with an explanation, I can't imagine not having that and knowing why you did what you did. You had lived for so many years in physical pain with your health conditions, and being a man previously in the army, you felt your health was slipping away and you were becoming a burden on us because you couldn’t look after us like you wanted to, and didn’t want to get to the point where we had to look after you. You were too proud for that, and I know how much that would have destroyed you, becoming the one being looked after. You put in your note that you had hoped every day to be taken naturally, but it never happened, so you had to take the decision into your own hands.

And that’s why I get it, and to some extent accept it and understand it. Going through my own health problems over the years since you died, both mental and physical, I know what it feels like to feel like you are a burden, and those who love you would be better off without you, I have felt that so many times over the years. In my darkest times, I hoped for the same as you – to be taken naturally so I could relieve my loved ones of me, without making the same decision you did. It’s hypocritical of me to sit here and say “if only you’d spoke to us, we would have told you how loved you were, and how you were never a burden” when despite many conversations with my loved ones telling me the same thing, I’ve never believed it or accepted it.

But I also know the devastation it leaves behind, the trauma that I have worked so hard over the years to overcome but can never truly get rid of. The fear that I’m going to lose everyone I love, every day. And knowing that is more than enough to have kept me here over the years, because I could never put my loved ones through that again. And what makes me so angry is it was so well planned, for so long, you didn’t make a snap decision one day, you planned it for a long time, even down to where it would be was so meticulously planned, every day you had to look us in the eye and tell us you loved us while planning that, knowing the devastation it would cause. That makes me so angry. And the fact your first attempt was unsuccessful and when you woke up you looked me in the eye and promised me you’d never do it again, and you’d never broken a promise to me before so why would you now? But you did.

No wonder I struggle to trust anyone, no wonder I live in fear every day that the people I love will be taken from me. No wonder I feel sick to my stomach when I can’t get in touch with the people I love. No wonder it still hurts 16 years later.

But I’ll always, always love you. You’ll always be my hero, and I’ll always be Daddy’s princess. I forgive you, I understand you, but I’ll never forget it. I’d give anything to see you or speak to you again, or just have one more day with you to tell you how loved you truly were, how you were the light that shone for so many people, how you were the glue that kept us all together. The fact that at your funeral there was so many people that they couldn’t even all fit in the church, so many people respected you, loved you and knew you and told stories of your infectious laughter, your smile, your pranks, your amazing feats both personally and professionally, and how you put everyone else around you first time and time again, much to your detriment sometimes. You had to put yourself first for once, and really, can I be mad at you for that?

I could write 100 pages about you, and about my feelings but just know you are still so loved, and still so remembered by everyone, and I just hope you’re up there having the biggest party and having cuddles with all the ones we have lost over the years. I know you’ll have been right there welcoming them with your amazing cuddles and a pint. I have to hold out hope that I’ll see you again one day. Love you always Daddio, from your little girl always and forever, Abbs xxx