A Time of Sorrow

It's everywhere at this time of year. The ghost of Christmas past. While everyone has a different ghost, my family carries some very real ones.

We have all lost loved ones in our time. Young and old, expected and unexpected, natural and not so natural. The grieving process is a long, hard road to go down. For some people it takes longer than others and most people have very different ways of coping with the grief.

But what happens when the holidays are flowing with the memories of those we lost, instead of sharing with the ones we still have? The holidays become a time of sorrow, of self pity, of stress, rather than a time of giving, sharing, and joy.

In 2004, on the 29th day of December, just days after celebrating the holidays, a call came in that no one ever wants, or expects. My husband's father has committed suicide. Looking at the pictures from the day before, he looks happy, fulfilled even, as he watches the family open gifts and he opens his. He is smiling and his eyes are bright. Within 24 hours he will call my husband to say goodbye, to say he can't take it anymore. Police will search and find nothing until the following day. A family friend will find him, gun in one hand, family pictures in another, and a large hole where his face should be. He was obviously gone, and it was more than obvious that it was too late.

For one year and 11 months we cope with this tragedy. We lose other family members and some friends but nothing compares. We go through all the motions, all the grief, all the self destruction of your own after someone so close takes their own life. And then, another call you can't believe is true.

On November 29, 2006, came a call of my own. My father has committed suicide. With a .22 shot to the right side of his head, he is even viewable, unlike my father-in-law. But why? Thanksgiving was just days before. He walked my little sister down the aisle at her wedding just two months prior. What went wrong?

It wouldn't be for a few days that we would learn that his death was more likely to be a murder rather than a suicide. After three days of thinking suicide, and going through the motions with my husband less than two years prior, I wasn't sure what was worse. At first you are mad at your loved one for leaving you, on purpose. You blame yourself for not reaching out. You wonder what you could have done. Then, like a smack in the face, you realize someone else may have played GOD with your father's life.

The police will never confirm, saying that the wound is consistent with suicide. All the while they will not look in to anything the private investigator found. Yes, it was that suspicious that my aunt hired someone on her own because we received no police cooperation. The would is in such a spot, that his ear would have had to been folded down if he had held the gun to his own head. The gun was not his own, although a number of his own guns and rifles were feet away from where he was found. There was blood found in his camper, as well as a bullet casing, although that is not where he was found. With two shots being shot out of the gun, only one bullet was found, in my father's head.

There are 100 reasons to believe, forensically and otherwise, that my father did not commit suicide. That does not help the process. Two years later we still have no answers. If he did take his own life we still don't know exactly why. What is worse is that we believe someone else took his life. I would love to ask this person 'what gave you the right to play GOD with MY father's life'?

The circumstances surrounding both deaths are gloomy, at best. That does not change the fact of the dates, and the time of year. What was once a festive time, a time of laughter and sharing, is now a month long depressive state of crying and more.

I am 29 years old now, and feel like an orphan. My mother is alive and well, as is my husbands mother, but we believe it is a matter of the circumstances that left us feeling so alone.

Thanksgiving isn't so much about thanks anymore. It is more about wonder. Wonder if the truth will come out. Wonder if there really is a better place. Wonder if our destiny is the same. It is a time of sorrow and fear. Christmas has become entirely about making the children smile, rather than enjoying it as adults. It is about loneliness, and it reminds us of how hard the time of year can make things. We wonder if the old tales are true, that if you take your own life, you don't get through the pearly gates.

While we don't know if we would feel any better knowing where our loved ones are spending their eternities, we do wonder. We have questions that linger unanswered, and we have hurt that will never heal. We have a month long area of grieving and sorry each and every year. We have a void in our lives, in our children's lives. Two of which will not remember their grandfather's as they were too young the last they saw them. The youngest was just 6 months old the last time she saw my father, which was also her first time.

As the holidays barrel toward us, I am more depressed this year than ever. The site of Chocolate Covered Cherries brings tears to my eyes as I used to buy my father a box every year. My husband can hardly watch a NASCAR race without a tear, as this was the biggest thing he shared with his father, their love of NASCAR.

So while we deal with our ghosts of Christmas past, we worry about the Christmas present, and hope that the Christmas future will be much better than the last 4 years. There seems to be little hope of financial security, and all we hope for now is peace of mind, and we pray for the answers.