How I Got My Father Back

I want to share a little bit about my path of acceptance and forgiveness of my dad. I've written, in general, about forgiveness (why I believe it's important), and grief (why I believe it's necessary). In this piece, I'll get a little more specific about my experience and how the suicide aspect affected my decision to forgive my dad.

For anyone who doesn't know this, or hasn't read other pieces that I've written, my biological father committed suicide about 3 1/2 years ago. His story.

It's not my intention to get into a debate about suicide and whether or not the individuals who took their lives need to be forgiven by their loved ones. This is simply me, choosing to be vulnerable and share my own experiences and perspectives. And coming from my perspective, I really felt that the fact that my dad chose to take his own life, hurt me. And I felt like he owed me something for putting me through so much pain. I felt like he took some things away from me. He robbed me of the right of a child to watch their parent grow old. He robbed me of future conversations with him, of deepening our relationship, of laughing together, of experiencing important life milestones together. And I'll be vulnerable here, we had a complicated relationship. He also robbed me of any true reconciliation that we might have had over certain things. He took away my ability to see him become a grandfather. But mostly, he robbed me of more time with him, and I was angry about that. 

So I felt that I would eventually need to forgive him. There was a long  period of time when I chose to withhold my forgiveness because of my anger and because I couldn't accept what he'd done. 

When I talk about acceptance, I'm not saying that I condone or sympathize with the fact that my dad committed suicide. I will always wish that he had not taken his own life. I will always wish I had more time with him. I will always wish that he didn't feel the need to make that decision. I will always feel that his life was cut unnecessarily short. 

When I talk about acceptance, what I'm referring to is this; choosing to love and forgive my dad despite the decision he made. What I'm talking about is looking at the decision he made for what it is, with no blinders on, and choosing to radically forgive my dad anyways. I'm talking about considering all of the life we will not get to experience together and choosing to be thankful for the time we did have instead of being filled with bitterness about the time that was taken away.  I'm saying that I accept the fact that I was robbed of some important things, that I was deeply and irrevocably hurt, but I chose to love my dad anyways. 

I don't know if my dad was a good guy or a bad guy in the grand scheme of life, but he was my dad. And I'm gonna miss him. I love him for who I knew he was and for what he meant to me and for the things he taught me. I love him for giving me his eyes and nose. I love him for taking me on camping adventures and for teaching me how to swim and ride a bike. I love him for challenging me to think about why I believe what I believe. I love him for driving hundreds of miles every few weeks to teach me how to drive. I love him for taking road trips with me, making me laugh and showing me the beauty in the desert. I love him for being passionate about learning and trying hard and treating those weaker than you with respect. I love him for reading Harry Potter out loud to me and becoming Hagrid personified. I love him for sitting next to my bed until I fell asleep every night for an entire summer. I love him for being my dad. 

I'm devastated that he's gone, and I always will be. But his suicide doesn't mean that I don't get to celebrate his life and our relationship. This is the simple idea that I want to impart through this piece; that it IS okay to still see the good in a person who committed suicide, and to continue to celebrate the life they chose to leave after they're gone. Again, I want to make it clear that I am in no way saying that the suicide should be celebrated, excused or accepted. I'm just saying that the life that came before that final decision, the memories shared, can and should be celebrated.

It took me a long time to realize that when my dad chose to commit suicide, he forfeited his right to his legacy. Legacy is defined as: anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor. My dad left behind a story and despite the ending, some parts of it were good. Now that he's gone, I believe that I, and other loved ones he left behind, get to choose what the legacy means and represents in our lives. For a long time I believed that I had no control over the legacy, that all I had left of my dad was this ugly, horrific death. But after some time had passed, and my heart healed a little bit, after the shock wave receded - I realized that I get to choose how to celebrate this man that was my father. I get to choose how to celebrate his birthday, even though when he was alive he didn't like his birthday. I get to celebrate the life he discarded and I get to imbue his legacy with new meaning. 

So I chose joy and life and beauty. Despite my dad's death there were aspects of his life that were rich in those very things. I choose to celebrate health and wholeness and the wonderful things he taught me and the laughter and wisdom he brought to my life. I accept and acknowledge that his whole legacy isn't beautiful and some parts are excruciatingly painful. Of course I do. I will not put my father up on a pedestal. But I refuse to weigh the balance of his life and find his death outweighs the good things. Head over to this post to learn about some practical ways that I like to celebrate my dad and any other loved ones that I've lost.