by Jon Farrow
Sometimes it’s a feeling in the middle of the day. Sometimes it’s passing a restaurant we used to frequent or a song that comes on right as I’m about to reach a destination. Other times it’s a memory-inducing warm breeze on a mild summer day. No matter what brings him to mind, even after five years, I still feel the twinge in my heart.
Searching for an escape has been a race that I can’t win
No matter what I do, the feeling overwhelms me like the shadow caused by a setting sun, one that extinguishes the light on the ground of a clear horizon. I wish I could forget what I felt the morning I found out he was gone. I wish I could erase the immense guilt I felt as I stood in his dining room looking at his self inflicted destruction.
I have been trying to learn to accept that there’s nothing I could have done. Even with that muddled affirmation, it has done nothing to ease the pain.
So many things have changed in my life that I wish I could share with him. I would have loved for my daughters to meet their grandfather. I know he would be proud of the woman I chose to spend my life with. I get lost in thought about the relationships they could have built with one another. Every day I think about everything that could have been.
I have been running from the sadness, guilt, regrets, and anger from losing him to suicide. I have been running from the reality that he really is gone–that no amount of day dreaming or wishing will bring him back.
What I am truly running from is accepting that I have to let go. I have to forgive myself, but more importantly I have to forgive my Dad.