Isn’t that a great picture of my baby and my baby? I love it. Thanks honey for emailing that picture to me…
For any of the two people that actually read this, being my wife and my mom, today’s post is going to get a little heavy and personal, so if you aren’t game for this kind of stuff, I suggest you read another post.
I went on a camp out with the ward last night. It was the Father’s and Son’s camp out. They do it every year to commemorate the anniversary of when the Aaronic Priesthood was restored to the earth. Fantastic reason to spend time with my Jason boy. I love Jason. He’s so excited most of the time. I know he had issues trying to hold all of that excitement in. I would too if I were him. We had a great time, some great adventures that I may write about another time, but mostly it reminded me that today is 52 weeks after when my father shot himself last year. Being with Jason boy reminded me that I love him, that I am his father, and that I am completely committed to giving him everything he needs from his father, that mine never could give for whatever reason. I’m going to baptize him, confirm him a member of the church and give him the gift of the Holy Ghost. I’m going to give him the priesthood as he grows. I’m going to take him to the temple for the first time. I’m going to go to sessions with him before his mission. I’m going to be his guide. I’m going to go to Father’s and Son’s camp outs with him. I’m going to teach him what I know. Mostly, I’m going to make sure that he always knows that I love him.
I’ve had quite a mix of feelings about this one year anniversary. Coincidentally, it is also the celebration of the day I quit smoking in 1997. Good job Tyler, you quit smoking. I’ve suffered through some pretty intense emotion this week, and some of it could be from what happened last year, but most of it probably comes from the level of work I’ve undertaken and the lack of preparation I have felt. I’ve been winging it more than I would like. That’s no good.
I want to say that I am wiser because of dad’s stupidity, but the wake it has left in my life has been bigger than I have admitted prior to today. Dad was my friend and councilor. We struggled with our relationship through the years. I didn’t talk to him intentionally for about four years as a teenager. We had to work to become friends. We took a trip once together as adults in, I want to say, 2005. Yellowstone in the RV. Fantastic trip. Four or five days. He and I. Fishing. Geysers. Mud pots. Hanging out. Eating well. Hiking. Reading. Napping. It was the first trip we had taken together alone. Ever in our lives. I loved my Dad. Now all I have for him is love and four words. “You stupid, stupid bastard.”
What did I learn from Dad and his suicide? Maybe that standing in a room full of strangers on a Saturday night staring at your father’s dead body isn’t really that fun.
I didn’t have to be there. I could have stayed home. Teresa and Lou had already found him, called the police, and everything was taken care of. I didn’t have to go. But I did. I went. I had to see for myself. I remember the total silence in that entryway of that death trap house they lived in. Police, medical examiner, other people I don’t know. Dad looked like he was sleeping. Stupid bastard. What for? To get approval from someone he would never get approval from. To get her to respect him, which she never did and never would. The endless chasing of a terrible dream and empty victory from which he could derive some sense of worth or something sick like that. I don’t know. What I do know is that he never lived his life. He never followed his purpose. He had moments of greatness here and there, but the stupid bastard never did live a higher life. He never did love himself enough to live. So he died, at his own hand.
We tried to be strong for each other that night. I was doing the Darrell bit that I love so much. Teresa and Lou were laughing between tears. I’ve never cried about it. I don’t know why. I just haven’t. “uh yeah, my name’s darrell…the back of yo’ head is ridiculus” It’s easier to be funny…
Then the real nightmare started. I chose to face it head on. Three hours of her spouting to me her nonsensical story and making him look really good by her looking really bad. I’ve never heard someone try to justify themselves like that in my entire life. It was as if she had no hand in his life.
I haven’t talked to her since the funeral. I’ve tried. Dad wanted me to talk to her. Kept bugging me from the spirit world. I went up there. No one answered the door. I wrote a letter. No one answered. I left notes. It doesn’t matter. She’s living her life and so am I. So be it.
Becca and I went out to dinner tonight to the OG in the DC and I ate well, for the OG. During dinner she asked what I had learned from him. I guess what I learned is that you have to have some self-value outside of relationships and that meaning for your life has to be derived from another source, from your source inside. Everything else is transitory. If your life has meaning because you have a cat to take care of, what happens when your cat is gone? Well, Dad’s life had meaning because he had someone he was trying to get respect from. When confronted with his utter failure at garnering that respect, his life ceased to have any meaning.
I talked to him the night he did it. He asked me what he should do with his life. I told him to go get an apartment, go fishing, and start enjoying living. Go get a life. Go help people. Spend time with your grandkids. Nope, the stupid bastard decides life isn’t worth living.
In this year I have learned a little about suffering. I have learned a little about depression. I have learned about giving meaning to your life. My life is for this – to bring back as many as I can HOME to where we came from, starting with my family. I know that when I am obedient I feel good. I know that when I am not, I feel terrible. I’ve learned that it is better to love yourself than to give up loving yourself to get something from someone else. To me, living is too high a price to pay. I’ve gotta live.
I’ve learned that family is fragile. I’ve only seen my little sister twice in the last year. I don’t blame her. She has her own crap to deal with. I miss her. She’s good people. It will be a long time before she changes her mind about us, I think.
I’ve learned that I’m not my Dad. This one is important.
It was cold on the porch last year. I guess I’m still cold. Here’s to you Dad on the one year anniversary of your stupidity. *$@% You. Apparently I haven’t forgiven him yet, but my life has moved on and I’m living, where he died way before he pulled the trigger.
Peace out. More camping news in the future. Thanks Jason boy for a great camping trip. I love you buddy. Thank you for being my son.
