Three Years…

Dear Hoop,

This coming Saturday marks three years since your death. Three years of replaying every last conversation we had. Three years of seeing you through my rearview mirror as you buckled up the kids and said good-bye for the last time. Three years of watching you live and breathe in our kids. Three years of questioning your actions. Three years of living with my guilt.

But this year I had decided to ignore the anniversary. I’ve moved on (didn’t you get the memo?). I am happy. I have an amazing life.  I am so fucking balanced that acrobats and accountants are wondering how I do it. (stop laughing, it’s true..mostly.)

Yet somehow you have managed to slip into my subconscious.  Despite my best efforts, you have snuck past my mental roadblocks and have invaded my dreams. For weeks now I’ve been tormented with the most horrendous nightmares that I’ve decided to just stop sleeping all together (The local coffee shops can thank you for the influx in sales).  I won’t go into the gory details (’cause obviously you already know them) but for real… STOP IT!!!!

And I’m not the only one feeling you this week.  Sunday was like all of us were PMSing on steroids.  Even Lucy was hissing at everyone that walked past her.  We didn’t have to mention your name or reveal the impending date but it was there.

Last night at dinner I was casually talking about our upcoming weekend plans when Moxie looked me straight up and said, “but what about Daddy-Day?”

God dammit.

Oh right, D-Day. You remembered.

Deep breath. That’s okay, I do better when I’m not in the elephant’s shadow anyway.

Me: Of course we can do something to remember Dad. Let’s think about some options. But in the meantime, do either of you want to talk about it or do you have any questions?

Her: Well I learned a lot about depression when I wrote my speech and I know that there are lots of kinds of depression so I’m just wondering… what kind of depression did Dad have? I mean.. he didn’t seem depressed?

Me: You mean he didn’t seem sad?

Her: yeah.. how is that depression? Wasn’t he really happy?

*Insert an hour of me rambling on about how you WERE so happy when you were with them and how much you loved playing with them and how all of that happiness was so very real….despite the fact that underneath, you suffered from depression.  Sweet Jesus, I really wish you’d left me a guidebook or at least an FAQ list of how to answer their top 5 questions.

So we made a rough plan to do something to remember you on Sunday (’cause sorry, it’s not all about you and our Saturday is already scheduled).  It will probably involve food.  And it will probably involve some sort of activity where we share stories and send messages to you.  And it may involve some sort of exorcism to get you outta my subconscious.  But we will take some time to remember you.

And rest assured. you continue to be missed. every day. no matter what date it is.

 

xo

e

Twitter: @pixiepaperdoll7
Instagram: @pixiepaperdoll
#TeamAdventurers

 

Important Resources (because although I can speak about my own personal experience, I am NOT an expert):

If you are currently supporting a loved one with mental illness, please, seek out expert support.  Find support for your loved one and for yourself.

If YOU are considering suicide at this time, please, I urge you to call a crisis line in your area.

 

related previously posted:

Dear Jerk.

Dear Jerk (6 months later)

Stigma Fighters

Approaching Doomsday

Unicorns – by Moxie

 

 

 

 

Approaching Doomsday

A couple weeks ago, one of the kids asked me how long it had been since…you know.. Daddy… I said that we were coming up to 2 years.

“What’s the date?”

“May 6th”

“I don’t want that day to come. I don’t want it to be another year without him.”

From that point on, it’s been referred to as Doomsday.

We must all have been subconsciously thinking about this upcoming anniversary. A couple nights before this conversation, I dreamt about you for the 1st time in ages. You were waiting for us at the arena for Rain’s hockey game.  The kids and I had been excited to see you again (yes, even me) after so long.  We were anxious to hear about your extended vacation.  You greeted us with the same big goofy smile you always had for the kids. Then I woke up. 4:01am and I was wide awake and shaken.  In efforts to fall back asleep I thought about the day’s events (trying to ground myself in reality). Suddenly I wondered if I’d remembered to turn off the BBQ after dinner. I tried to assure myself that I had of course turned it off, I always do. But then came thoughts that maybe you had come to me in a dream as a warning (so much for reality). You had come to save us from an impending explosion – you *are* supposed to be our guardian angel, right?  As I grappled with varying degrees of reality, my tossing and turning woke up Keith who graciously went downstairs and outside to confirm that the BBQ had indeed been turned off.  Nothing to worry about.  Good to know you continue to be more jack-ass than angel.

Even still, it was kinda nice to see you again. Next time stay longer. There are things I’d like to say to you (in person, not just those conversations in my head).

We’ve sort of adapted to this new normal..but let me assure you…it still sucks.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to write, Rain and Moxie’s dad is deceased on various forms. And it sucks. Every time.

And while the kids are growing up to be such incredibly thoughtful, imaginative, gorgeous souls, they are also now processing and thinking about your death in an older and more complex way.

They’re looking to me to help them answer questions that I can’t even understand.

Why didn’t Daddy talk to someone about his feelings and ask for help?

It’s ironic that your anniversary falls within Mental Health Awareness week.  I know that I should be out there promoting the shit of out this..and usually I do. But right now it’s like everywhere I look, I’m reminded of your death and the days/months/years leading up to it.  And I want to scream every time I see that hashtag #GETLOUD

I’ll get loud alright…

Mental illness is BULLSHIT !!!

Suicide is BULLSHIT !!

Your death is BULLSHIT !!

Me having to deal with all of this is BULLSHIT !!

The kids having to deal with all of this is even more BULLSHIT !!

Those late night tear-stained conversations are the most bullshit of all……..

I hate that you’re missing so much of their lives. And I hate that they’re missing having you in it.

You continue to be missed. You continue to be loved. And we will remember you and honour you on Doomsday when it arrives. But right now, I think this is bullshit and I’m going to #GETLOUD about it.

xo,

e

 

@paperpixiedoll7