Seven Years

They say that time heals all wounds but the more I ponder that, the less I believe it. It seems to me as though the more time that passes, the harder it gets to become healed. I think that true devastation will forever take a toll on your being.

As of July 30th, 2016, it will be seven years that my father took his own life in the basement of my childhood home. It seems awfully redundant to constantly write about someone who is no longer here, but the void of this loss doesn’t go away either, so I suppose writing about it doesn’t hurt. I remember most things about him, from the black pocket T-shirts he wore every day and the Basic brand cigarettes he smoked. I remember his goofy personality, and how it would sometimes turn very dark. I even remember the Robert Plant CD’s he played back to back every time I was with him.  Most importantly, though, I remember that he loved me and I certainly loved him. 

The loss of a parent at such a young age has effected my life in so many different ways. The constant anxiety, the need to always get in an “I love you” to everyone I care about before a departure, always wanting to be secure. It’s the reminder that I only have one parent left. It’s knowing that my dad will never have a chance to walk me down the aisle or watch me graduate from college. It’s the “what ifs” or “I wish I would’ves.” Those deep thoughts are something I carry with me and will continue to carry with me for years to come.

Out of everything I wish I could experience again, it is the sound of my father’s voice. A person doesn’t truly understand how comforting a voice can be until you never hear it again. I wish I could have done things differently, but I was only twelve at the time. There is not much a twelve year old could have done to save her dying father. It was not until later that I realized he had been dead emotionally way before his physical death. 

Suicide is an exceptionally selfish way to die, though I understand why it is done. Seven years has passed and I still feel the emptiness each and every day. No one is able to understand self inflicted loss until they experience it themselves- and I hope that they never do. They say that everything happens for a reason, and I like to think my father’s death has been a learning experience not only for me but for those who read my articles. 

I love my dad and I hope that he has found the peace and understanding he had wanted for so long, but could not achieve. I would hope that if he could go back in time, he would have changed his mind after seeing how this has effected my family. Seven years is a long time to be without someone you love.

Please don’t ever take your family or friends for granted. Life is too short to not be clear about our feelings. 

Each and every one of us is worthy of a healthy and happy life. I hope you have found yours. 

Leah Koneski

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