I don't even know what to title this · 9:23pm
This is probably going to be all over the place, just bear with me.
As you may or may not know, my dad and I never really got along. He never approved my "homosexual lifestyle choice" or most of the things I liked. He was hardly around, always working to put food on the table and keep a roof over our head. We did do a bit of father son time, he taught me how to fish, hike, camp, shoot, fix stuff and play baseball. All those stereotypical man things.
Over the years, I've tried to make him proud, never succeeding. Even when I was in the army, he'd chastise me for not having done ranger school, or airborne or becoming an NCO. No matter what it was, it wasnt fast or good enough to be up to par. So I broke ties with him not too long after coming back from Afghanistan. After his motorcycle accident, I tried again only to be rebuffed once more. I got out shortly after and returned to find him completly detached from logical thought. He'd ban my friends from coming over, popcorn, noise and tried to impose an 8 o'clock bed time on a household full of 17 yo+ people enrolled in high school and college.
My mom doesnt know this and I will keep this secret from her until I die, but I saw my dad hanging from the garage ceiling. I never even saw him cry or do much more than swear when he injured himself. I knew he would die soon due to seizures but to have committed suicide? He was tough, thought he'd make it to the end naturally no matter what. And by hanging... thinking about how terrifying that must have been for that minute or so. I cant help but wonder if maybe he regretted it near the end or if he pushed through it... Seeing that death also seems to have brought back the rest of my PTSD. I cant fucking deal with much right now.
The night he went to do it he kept ushering us to bed. Looking through his phone, it seems to have been a week or two in planning.
My sister just turned 18 and graduates tomorrow. Her dad wont be there. This sunday is fathers day, so I keep hearing about dad shit on the radio and at every fucking store. I'll be the one to walk my sisters down the aisle, and he'll never meet a single one of my boyfriends. I'd drink, but I dont do that shit when/if I'm depressed.
That's pretty much how Im doing. I fucking gotta go do something else, 'fore this overwhelms me.