His Story (How I lost my father)
Disclosure before you read too far! This is the story of my biological father's death. This post will deal with some sensitive topics: suicide, grief and faith. I will be sharing some details that are sensitive.
I have an important story to tell.
This is a story I've shared parts of with many people. Some people know the whole story.
Most don't.
This is also a true story. However, this story is coming from only one person's perspective; my experience of these events will be different from other people's. Please keep in mind that this story is only my view and experience of what happened.
Up to this point, I've been fairly private about grieving my father. I'm not personally big on using social media as a platform for grief. Though I have posted a few times about my dad and his death, I haven't taken time to write out the whole story. I'm writing this down because I want to remember. And I think it warrants sharing. It's also been over 3 years since these events transpired and I feel ready to share this with more people.
I'm going to relate the events from when I found out about my dad's death through his funeral. Long post ahead.
November 12th 2014 around 11 PM
My husband, Jonathan and I, are laying in our bed in the first apartment we chose together after getting married. We were married about 6 months earlier.
I can't remember exactly what we were talking about, but it wasn't our normal pattern to still be awake at 11 PM. I received a call from my step mom. I looked at my husband in curiosity and confusion and I said something like "Denise never calls this late. Should I answer?... Yeah I better answer."
I picked up the phone and Denise greeted me, already I could tell something wasn't right.
She said "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to tell anyone. Allie, your Dad's gone."
I can't remember exactly how she made it clear that he had taken his own life, but she did tell me right away.
My reaction was immediate. I shoved the phone towards my husband so that he could get more details from Denise if need be, but I knew I couldn't continue the conversation. This was the first time in my life that I experienced real shock. I was shaking and sobbing and rocking back and forth. The only words out of my mouth were "Oh my god. No. Oh my god." I don't know how long this lasted, and my husband simply held me while I registered the loss of my father in this way.
I can't tell you how much sleep I did or did not get that night. At one point, my husband called my supervisor at work and related what had happened. My job and supervisor at the time were very understanding. At some point I got on the phone and we discussed bereavement time. I'm very lucky that I had vacation and bereavement time. I didn't end up going into work for the next two weeks.
Two big things I remember about the first night:
1. Jonathan and I specifically took the time to pray. I can't give any detail about exactly what we prayed, I just know that I needed to cry out to the Lord. In the end, the actual words didn't matter. I couldn't put much into words at this moment anyways. I am thankful that I had my husband to go to battle and intercede on my behalf. I also had the Holy Spirit to intercede for me. I was clinging to the truth of Romans 8:26 which reads "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." ESV
Groanings too deep for words. That is, by far, the best description I have found for what my grief felt like at that moment.
2. I remember Jonathan saying something like "I actually feel sad for God". Since my husband is a man of few words, I'll explain what he meant. He meant that he feels sad for God because of the pain that God must feel over the loss of my father. God loves my Dad (and every human being) more than I can comprehend. My human brain simply cannot process that much love. How much more keenly then, does he feel loss? That perspective was invaluable to me at that moment. It reminded me that I wasn't alone in my grief, that there was someone out there who fully understood how my heart broke.
Very early the next day I call Denise again. I'm much more calm and able to get more detail from her now. I find out that my father has shot himself in the head with a shot gun. The brutality of this act hits me, hard. I'm shocked all over again. I also find out that he had been absent from work for two days previously. Here's how I understand the last 3 days of my father's life: Monday he calls into work saying he's sick. He doesn't tell his wife. Denise believes he's working and going about his day normally. Same exact story on Tuesday. We don't know how he spent those two days. Wednesday my dad calls his wife around 10 AM and tells her that he'll be staying home from work with food poisoning. Denise happens to be working fairly late on this day and doesn't get home until late in the evening. Around 8:30-9:00 PM. Denise gets home and notices a few things, the stereo and TV are on full volume and their pet cats are pretty freaked out. Denise discovers a small note that my father leaves on the door of the bathroom that he locked himself in. It reads "please don't look, just call 911". He leaves nothing else. No other explanation. Denise breaks down the door and discovers that he's gone.
She tells me that it was clear to her that he'd been gone all day long. I don't ask for details.
November 13th 2014
In the evening of the day after I find out my dad has died Jonathan and I attend a Bethel Music worship session hosted by New Life Church. I don't remember how we got invited to this. I'm so grateful we were. It was exactly where I needed/wanted to be the day after I found out about my dad. I was grateful for the anonymity of standing in a massive crowd of believers, worshipping together. It was a cathartic and healing experience. One of the single most powerful worship moments of my life. Looking back now, I'm surprised that I said "yes" to going to this event the day after my dad died. I'm surprised, but so grateful. I felt like I was facing down the darkness. I felt like I was doing battle against it. Like I was saying to the darkness "Look how I'm still standing. Look how I can be broken apart, but still worship God. I'm still here." I felt like Job, who faced so much loss - it blows my mind. Job stayed faithful to God, and to himself.
The next few days leading up to my father's funeral are mostly a blur. I know I deliver the news to a few people who are close to me. I know I speak to my step mom frequently, sharing our very fresh grief and discussing details for me to travel to Albuquerque for the funeral. I also know that I receive tremendous support from my community of family and friends. I get visits, phone calls, texts and gifts. Each totally priceless.
As Jonathan and I are planning/talking about heading to ABQ for the funeral, we find out that some of our best friends in the world are about to get engaged. We are invited to be a part of the engagement and so Jonathan stays behind for a few days to help while I travel ahead to ABQ. We are so thankful to be a part of this. And we both agree that it's a good idea for Jonathan to remain behind. Being a part of such a life-giving, special, and amazing moment in our friends lives is like a salve on a wound in this time for me. I knew that after the funeral was over in ABQ that I'd get to come home and be a part of the beginning of something. Of course it didn't fix everything, but it reminded me that life was still good and still moving and changing.
Since Jonathan wasn't with me, I asked a friend to join me on the drive and so that I won't be alone for the first few days. This friend, who joins me, (you know who you are) is one of the strongest women I have had the privilege of knowing. She literally packed her bags and got ready for a 4 day trip on like an hour's notice. And over the course of the trip she just allows me to do whatever I need to do. She's there for me when I need to be serious. She's also there for me when I want to keep things on the lighter side, when I need to let myself laugh and experience some small joys. She prays for me and comforts me and laughs with me, contributes when I need help and simply tags along when I need her to. I was grateful to have her at my side over these few days.
Later, in Albuquerque, I prepared my father's eulogy and we held a funeral for him.
That sentence is way too tiny and simple for the complexity of those events. But there it is. Giving my father's eulogy was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I spoke about all the things he taught me, and how much I'm gonna miss him and how I'm gonna try to get through losing him. People come up to me afterward and tell me how my words touched them and how much my dad loved me. I try to receive all of this with kindness, but on the inside I'm a mess.
Afterward, we held a wake. We had Chinese food (his favorite). I don't have much to say about this period of time and if I'm honest, I mostly just remember wanting to get through it - wanting it not to be real and wanting it to be over. I believe, at this point, that I was starting to become somewhat numb. I know I used this as a defense mechanism. It all felt overwhelmingly painful. I couldn't take that much pain all at one time. I needed to be numb for a little while so when the pain came, which it inevitably did, maybe I'd maybe be a little more prepared to handle it. I wasn't really. But I had someone in my corner. Someone who was waiting for me until I was ready to deal with everything. God was there - ready to comfort and heal my broken heart. He met me right where I was when I was ready.
There were many people who were there for me during this time. And the last thing I want to mention in this piece, are those amazing people! I won't share every detail (for privacy sake) of exactly how my friends and family supported me. But please know this: my friends and family SHOWED UP. In a very real and beautiful way. They did such a great job of not pressuring me into showing my grief differently than exactly how I needed to.
Don't get me wrong there were people and conversations that made me feel like I needed to grieve differently, or like I needed to cover up my real reaction. I definitely had to water down some reactions, feelings and circumstances at times and for certain people to get through certain interactions. For the most part though, I had people around me who made room for my grief in the exact shape that it needed to take. They didn't try to change it. They didn't ask me to cover it up or water it down. I just want to thank those friends and family who did that for me. You guys are strong and courageous and stunning.
This story is hard to share, and it makes me feel vulnerable to open up about how I felt immediately after it all happened. But I said this once to a friend "I believe vulnerability is synonymous with courage". I believe vulnerability is a strength, one that should be rewarded and not punished. I believe that the world would be a better place if it's citizens were more vulnerable with each other.
I have an important story to tell.
This is a story I've shared parts of with many people. Some people know the whole story.
Most don't.
This is also a true story. However, this story is coming from only one person's perspective; my experience of these events will be different from other people's. Please keep in mind that this story is only my view and experience of what happened.
Up to this point, I've been fairly private about grieving my father. I'm not personally big on using social media as a platform for grief. Though I have posted a few times about my dad and his death, I haven't taken time to write out the whole story. I'm writing this down because I want to remember. And I think it warrants sharing. It's also been over 3 years since these events transpired and I feel ready to share this with more people.
I'm going to relate the events from when I found out about my dad's death through his funeral. Long post ahead.
November 12th 2014 around 11 PM
My husband, Jonathan and I, are laying in our bed in the first apartment we chose together after getting married. We were married about 6 months earlier.
I can't remember exactly what we were talking about, but it wasn't our normal pattern to still be awake at 11 PM. I received a call from my step mom. I looked at my husband in curiosity and confusion and I said something like "Denise never calls this late. Should I answer?... Yeah I better answer."
I picked up the phone and Denise greeted me, already I could tell something wasn't right.
She said "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to tell anyone. Allie, your Dad's gone."
I can't remember exactly how she made it clear that he had taken his own life, but she did tell me right away.
My reaction was immediate. I shoved the phone towards my husband so that he could get more details from Denise if need be, but I knew I couldn't continue the conversation. This was the first time in my life that I experienced real shock. I was shaking and sobbing and rocking back and forth. The only words out of my mouth were "Oh my god. No. Oh my god." I don't know how long this lasted, and my husband simply held me while I registered the loss of my father in this way.
I can't tell you how much sleep I did or did not get that night. At one point, my husband called my supervisor at work and related what had happened. My job and supervisor at the time were very understanding. At some point I got on the phone and we discussed bereavement time. I'm very lucky that I had vacation and bereavement time. I didn't end up going into work for the next two weeks.
Two big things I remember about the first night:
1. Jonathan and I specifically took the time to pray. I can't give any detail about exactly what we prayed, I just know that I needed to cry out to the Lord. In the end, the actual words didn't matter. I couldn't put much into words at this moment anyways. I am thankful that I had my husband to go to battle and intercede on my behalf. I also had the Holy Spirit to intercede for me. I was clinging to the truth of Romans 8:26 which reads "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." ESV
Groanings too deep for words. That is, by far, the best description I have found for what my grief felt like at that moment.
2. I remember Jonathan saying something like "I actually feel sad for God". Since my husband is a man of few words, I'll explain what he meant. He meant that he feels sad for God because of the pain that God must feel over the loss of my father. God loves my Dad (and every human being) more than I can comprehend. My human brain simply cannot process that much love. How much more keenly then, does he feel loss? That perspective was invaluable to me at that moment. It reminded me that I wasn't alone in my grief, that there was someone out there who fully understood how my heart broke.
Very early the next day I call Denise again. I'm much more calm and able to get more detail from her now. I find out that my father has shot himself in the head with a shot gun. The brutality of this act hits me, hard. I'm shocked all over again. I also find out that he had been absent from work for two days previously. Here's how I understand the last 3 days of my father's life: Monday he calls into work saying he's sick. He doesn't tell his wife. Denise believes he's working and going about his day normally. Same exact story on Tuesday. We don't know how he spent those two days. Wednesday my dad calls his wife around 10 AM and tells her that he'll be staying home from work with food poisoning. Denise happens to be working fairly late on this day and doesn't get home until late in the evening. Around 8:30-9:00 PM. Denise gets home and notices a few things, the stereo and TV are on full volume and their pet cats are pretty freaked out. Denise discovers a small note that my father leaves on the door of the bathroom that he locked himself in. It reads "please don't look, just call 911". He leaves nothing else. No other explanation. Denise breaks down the door and discovers that he's gone.
She tells me that it was clear to her that he'd been gone all day long. I don't ask for details.
November 13th 2014
In the evening of the day after I find out my dad has died Jonathan and I attend a Bethel Music worship session hosted by New Life Church. I don't remember how we got invited to this. I'm so grateful we were. It was exactly where I needed/wanted to be the day after I found out about my dad. I was grateful for the anonymity of standing in a massive crowd of believers, worshipping together. It was a cathartic and healing experience. One of the single most powerful worship moments of my life. Looking back now, I'm surprised that I said "yes" to going to this event the day after my dad died. I'm surprised, but so grateful. I felt like I was facing down the darkness. I felt like I was doing battle against it. Like I was saying to the darkness "Look how I'm still standing. Look how I can be broken apart, but still worship God. I'm still here." I felt like Job, who faced so much loss - it blows my mind. Job stayed faithful to God, and to himself.
The next few days leading up to my father's funeral are mostly a blur. I know I deliver the news to a few people who are close to me. I know I speak to my step mom frequently, sharing our very fresh grief and discussing details for me to travel to Albuquerque for the funeral. I also know that I receive tremendous support from my community of family and friends. I get visits, phone calls, texts and gifts. Each totally priceless.
As Jonathan and I are planning/talking about heading to ABQ for the funeral, we find out that some of our best friends in the world are about to get engaged. We are invited to be a part of the engagement and so Jonathan stays behind for a few days to help while I travel ahead to ABQ. We are so thankful to be a part of this. And we both agree that it's a good idea for Jonathan to remain behind. Being a part of such a life-giving, special, and amazing moment in our friends lives is like a salve on a wound in this time for me. I knew that after the funeral was over in ABQ that I'd get to come home and be a part of the beginning of something. Of course it didn't fix everything, but it reminded me that life was still good and still moving and changing.
Since Jonathan wasn't with me, I asked a friend to join me on the drive and so that I won't be alone for the first few days. This friend, who joins me, (you know who you are) is one of the strongest women I have had the privilege of knowing. She literally packed her bags and got ready for a 4 day trip on like an hour's notice. And over the course of the trip she just allows me to do whatever I need to do. She's there for me when I need to be serious. She's also there for me when I want to keep things on the lighter side, when I need to let myself laugh and experience some small joys. She prays for me and comforts me and laughs with me, contributes when I need help and simply tags along when I need her to. I was grateful to have her at my side over these few days.
Later, in Albuquerque, I prepared my father's eulogy and we held a funeral for him.
That sentence is way too tiny and simple for the complexity of those events. But there it is. Giving my father's eulogy was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I spoke about all the things he taught me, and how much I'm gonna miss him and how I'm gonna try to get through losing him. People come up to me afterward and tell me how my words touched them and how much my dad loved me. I try to receive all of this with kindness, but on the inside I'm a mess.
Afterward, we held a wake. We had Chinese food (his favorite). I don't have much to say about this period of time and if I'm honest, I mostly just remember wanting to get through it - wanting it not to be real and wanting it to be over. I believe, at this point, that I was starting to become somewhat numb. I know I used this as a defense mechanism. It all felt overwhelmingly painful. I couldn't take that much pain all at one time. I needed to be numb for a little while so when the pain came, which it inevitably did, maybe I'd maybe be a little more prepared to handle it. I wasn't really. But I had someone in my corner. Someone who was waiting for me until I was ready to deal with everything. God was there - ready to comfort and heal my broken heart. He met me right where I was when I was ready.
Don't get me wrong there were people and conversations that made me feel like I needed to grieve differently, or like I needed to cover up my real reaction. I definitely had to water down some reactions, feelings and circumstances at times and for certain people to get through certain interactions. For the most part though, I had people around me who made room for my grief in the exact shape that it needed to take. They didn't try to change it. They didn't ask me to cover it up or water it down. I just want to thank those friends and family who did that for me. You guys are strong and courageous and stunning.
This story is hard to share, and it makes me feel vulnerable to open up about how I felt immediately after it all happened. But I said this once to a friend "I believe vulnerability is synonymous with courage". I believe vulnerability is a strength, one that should be rewarded and not punished. I believe that the world would be a better place if it's citizens were more vulnerable with each other.
