Today, March 1st, would have been my father’s 79th birthday. Instead, it’s a day of sadness and a reminder that four years ago, twenty-one days after his 75th birthday, my father got out of bed around 9am, went into the bathroom with a gun and shot himself in the head, killing himself instantly.
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| I took this 2 months before his death |
My father was a retired nuclear engineer who was happily married to his soul mate for over 30 years. They had purchased a new home 10 months earlier, in cash, that he loved on the green of a golf course and had also just purchased a new Lexus also paid for in cash. They golfed three or four times a week having no financial worries. He had some minor health issues but nothing unusual for someone his age. It was a complete shock to us all but especially my stepmother as she is the one who found his body. He left no note - nothing - leaving us all to wonder why.
There were no signs that he was suicidal, if there was, he hid them well from all of us. My sister and I each spoke to him on the telephone the night before he committed suicide. I asked him about how he was doing with his recovery from his knee replacement surgery; he talked about how he was looking forward to getting back on the golf course now that he was starting to walk hills again. We were both laughing, being silly, and gently teasing each other. My father was truly happy. Or at least he had us all believing that.
I still remember the phone call that morning, telling me my father was gone. The horrible screaming I heard which at first I didn’t realize was my own. (I broke blood vessels in my throat that day which I was later to learn destroyed my ability to sing.) Of course the one question we all had was why. Little did we know that this was a question we would have to learn to live with without answers.
Not only did I lose my father that day but my siblings and I also lost our beloved “Uncle Joe”. He was my dad’s lifelong best friend who became angry at us because my dad was cremated (per his spoken wishes) and it was his cremains at the memorial service. Uncle Joe was, according to him, unable to view my father and say his last goodbye which made him furious at us. This despite the fact that even if my father hadn’t been cremated, there is no way that Uncle Joe could have viewed his body as there was simply too much damage.
I could go on about all the relationships that were sundered that day, the blame games that were played, the statements made that resonate to this day, and how my stepmother still cries every time we talk about “her buddy”. All of our lives were irrevocably changed that day and none of us will EVER be the same people we were before we heard the soul searing news.
Weeks later in talking to my therapist, after telling him many of the things that I have written here, followed by the inevitable, “I don’t get it. He was financially well off, had a great marriage, was able to indulge in his passions, I just don’t get why he did this.” that I learned that my dad was in a prime demographic for suicide at his age for those very reasons. No financial worries does not have any part in the equation and that men are statistically less likely to ask for help and more prone to hiding it from those they love. I wish I would have known that earlier.
I think that if my father could have realized the anguish he was inflicting on those he loved and was loved by, he would have asked for the help we now know he so clearly needed. For those who may have contemplated this decision, please reach out - to friends, family, a professional, or a hotline. The national suicide prevention hotline is 1-800-273-8255. There are a lot of people out there willing to help, wanting to help. There is no shame.
