Full Circle: Reaching the Age of My Murdered Father

Feb. 10th 1988 I said good-bye to my father I was 16.  Today on my birthday I turn the same age my father was when he was murdered 44 years young.

Today is also my Mother's  birthday, I was born on her birthday August 17.  My mother would be 69 today but she passed away at the early age of 47.

They say that 1 out of 9 children lose a parent before they are 20 and that this early loss takes a lifetime to heal.  Perhaps this is why I feel the need to share what is on my mind today as I turn the same age my father was at the age of his death.  A surreal feeling indeed.

"Have a good day, I love you!", I said.  Dad walked out the door with my disabled mother taking her to her first day of physical therapy.

It was the last words we spoke to each other.  He was murdered that afternoon on Feb, 10, 1988.  I was 16.

 

I think about the words,"I love you" and I replay them over and over and over in my head.  I try as hard as I can to recall every detail of our last interaction.  Were there any hidden clues or meaning in our conversation?  A look on his face, anything that might tell me something or offer a  little piece of hope to hold onto in the years after his death?

I have often dreaded this milestone birthday and I wasn't sure why.  Now I know.

At 44 I am a mother to 2 beautiful twin 10 year old boys.  I am old enough to know that I am ok, that you lose things in life, you gain them but I have a lot more living to do.

I can't imagine if I were to die today leaving my boys, we have so many milestones left unfinished.

When I look back on my life I think about what I would tell my younger self about losing your parents young.  This is what comes to my mind.

 

Dear Younger Self,

You will not know this now but this murder of your father, loss of your mother will be your darkest teacher.  You will have days that you think you can't get up.

But you do.

You will have moments when you feel so saddened with grief and loss that you may not be able to function.

But you will.

You will learn to align yourself with the people that care for you.  You will  know quickly how to survive and who is on your side.  You will also need to be careful because there is no body who will love you as unconditionally as your parents did.  It's just the cold hard truth. You have to be your own parent.

You will have to stop identifying yourself as a victim and realize that everyone suffers, that all of us eventually will lose people we love in our lives.  It's up to you how you handle this loss.  Let it define you?  Or let it be your greatest teacher.  That part is up to you.

These early losses you endured a a big fucking deal.  The grief will hit you at times when you least expect it.  I know this because it hit me while writing this letter.   The force is powerful and crippling at the same time.  When this happens you will welcome your old friend grief pull up a chair and be one with it for a while.    You will learn that from your darkest days you can begin to see the light again.  Slowly.  However you can't feel the happiness again until you have fully grieved.  It's a process.  Find your new normal.

You will go though murder trials and people will tell you to forgive your Fathers Killer.  But that forgiveness part is yours and only yours to decide.  People will be so quick to tell you, "Give it to God".  They are not you, they have not walked in your shoes.  People mean well and they want you to be ok. This is between you and God.  You decide.

I will tell you that holding on to the anger is like drinking poison and expecting the murderer to die.  You have to let go of the anger and choose the living.  Otherwise it will destroy you.

Look for those people that get you, they are your tribe, the ones that you can sit with because they too know great loss and you don' t need words because the song of understanding will be in the air.  Dance to it.  Hold those people close.

As soon as you chose the living part everything will fall into place.  Not without struggle of coarse because that struggle is universal.  We are not immune to struggling and suffering.  That said we are all allowed great joy, happiness and a beautiful life.

Always stand up for what you believe.  Talk about  how losing your parent to gun violence has impacted your life.  Bringing awareness is key, and an understanding of how much our gun culture hurts so many.  Don't be silent.

Look for that beauty, travel the world, try to see that others do it different then you and it's ok.  Never never never push your beliefs and faith on others but be aware of others trying to push their beliefs and faith on you.

Turn your grief into service because that service part, helping others will bring you more healing and happiness then you every imagined. That will be your church.

Last but not least love yourself and believe that all of your suffering has lead you to the beautiful person you are today.  It has been your greatest teacher.

Now go and live and know that each day is a gift, tomorrow is not promised so make the most of today.

Oh yeah, and write, tell your stories, inspire others to live their best life in spite of the trauma.

Happy Birthday!  You made it now you have more living to do.  

About the Author
My name is Angela True. I am from Seattle, Washington. Currently I am living in Chiang Mai, Thailand with my husband, twin boys and 2 pugs. I write about life after loss. At an early age I was dealt a tragic series of events. My mother was mentally ill and institutionalized. My father was murdered. Leaving my younger brother and I to care for our mother. My mother went into state care, my brother and I in foster care, and with family and friends. There was no road map for the grief and loss we experienced so young. Decades later I write about life. My aim is to provide a message that is one of hope-that a great life awaits beyond trauma and pain. I believe through sharing our experiences we can encourage and empower each other to see our beauty and strength to heal and ultimately thrive. I don't have all the answers... but I write about the journey along the way.
I'm Grieving, Now What?