I miss you, daddy.

I suppose you're reading this assuming that this will be my long, sad, and depressing story about how I lost a loved one. To cut to the chase, you're not entirely wrong. You see, after losing my loved one I turned to writing as my only way to vent. In all honesty, writing was one of the few things I was in control of at that particular time in my life. I've thought recently that maybe I would get into a type of blogging, or something along those lines. 

I had just turned 16 days before my father committed suicide. 

I remember that day, oh what do they say? Yes, like it was yesterday. I remember what I was wearing, I remember the smell, the weather, hell, even what color my nails were. I was stressing over things any 16 year old sophomore in highschool would. I was excited for Christmas.  Oh, I loved Christmas. I mean, my birthday and Christmas are not even a full two weeks apart! 

My mom made breakfast that morning. Dad came down and ate with us. He ate, and went back up to his bedroom. He didn't speak much, which was odd. My mom decided later she wanted to make a trip to go last minute shopping for gifts. Of course, I wanted to go, too. Well you see, I had just gotten my drivers permit about four months before, so when my mom said I could drive to Auto Zone with my dad to get the headlight fixed, I was ready to go! It was a happy day so far. Pretty regular. But he wasn't happy and I couldn't understand why. He didn't talk much of the drive, and I wasn't paying attention, and like a dad would, he got onto me. We bickered, and while arguing, I turned into a wrong lane. Long story short.... He. Lost. His. Cool. We both did. 

I walked away and he left me sitting on a bench of a closed down grocery store. He drove home, my mom picked me up and we finished our plans. Little did I know, when I came home my life would change forever.

It was 2:34 a.m. when my mom woke me from a dead sleep on the recliner in our living room. She was in a panic and to say the least, in shock. When I asked her what was wrong, she looked at e blankly and said "Bryan hung himself upstairs" 

I've wondered for going on three years why she didn't refer to him as "Dad" like she always has. I think it was a way to try to protect me. I think my mom was trying to guard me the best she could. 

I'm not going to go in much detail of what happened after that, but I will tell you, it runs through my head often. I will never forget that night. 

You see, when you lose a parent in highschool, especially in a small town, everyone knows. Everyone has so many questions when you come back to school.... And everyone says the same things to you. It's like you join this club where every kid wants to pity you when in all reality, you just want to be left alone. 

On December 22 of this year my dad will be out of this physical earth for three years. People say the same "It will get better" and "Hang in there" and the most common "He's with you" they did two and a half years ago. I'm not saying its not appreciated, don't get me wrong. It just gets old. And quite honestly, its a lie. It doesn't "get better" your normal just changes. Life changes... Hell the only thing consistent is change. It will always happen. 

I struggled with that for a long time. Change. Its not something I'm fond of. Of course, I've struggled with a lot of things.... Guilt. Guilt is such a heavy word. I often lay awake consumed in sadness and anxiety until early hours of the morning because I can't believe my dad is gone... And how could I say those things to him? Sometimes, I forgive him. Sometimes, I'm still mad. But I haven't yet been able to forgive myself. .

Now, I don't want you to be mislead. I don't have a huge amount of self pity that I roll around in. I have overcame many obstacles since I lost my dad that he would want me to overcome. I've got over a drinking problem, and most of all, I've bettered myself. I got back in school. I  grew up like I had to. I had to be strong and I was.