“You’ll make it okay, Dad?” He looked up at me, his little face eager for my response.
“Where are you, Chris!?!” I screamed and screamed. It got darker. I screamed some more. “Don’t go! Come back! NOOOO!!!!!” Darkness covered me as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I woke up and there was my dad, smiling at me.
“Dad.....” I cried. I knew I would. The sight of him reduced me to tears. His reaction was predictable, and all Dad. As I sat up, he put his arms around me and gave me the best hug I’d received in years. Amy’s was nice, but this was Dad. He had been my hero from day one: Never once unsupportive, never once blaming me for any of my problems. He always explained to me that it was something I couldn’t control, and never could without help. Dad even saved my life. It was soon after I got out of the hospital.
I had given up completely. I mean completely. I was in my room at home, contemplating how to kill myself. I had several choices, none of them fun, but I had decided on the easiest. I had found where my mom kept my drugs and grabbed the whole group of them. Among them were several powerful sedatives that if taken in mass quantity would definitely put me down for the permanent count. I was sitting on my bed looking at the pill bottles, when I heard a knock on my door, “Who is it?”, I shouted, hoping it wasn’t him.
“Its me, son. I need to talk to you.”
His voice...
“About what?”
“Your mom can’t find your pills, do you have any idea where they are?” He knew. And he knew I knew he knew.
“Dad, just leave me alone, please....”
“Son, open the door.”
“Dad, I can’t.” I knew I was going to lose this battle.
“Son, open the door right now.”
“Or what?”
“Kevin, if you don’t open the door I’m going to break it down.....,” he said, his voice an octave higher.
“Please, Dad, leave...,” this was not the response he was looking for and within ten seconds he was inside my room with the door barely hanging on to its hinges. *I* was 6’7”, you can bet Dad wasn’t a small man. 6’3”, 210lbs.
“Kevin, what are you doing?” He didn’t understand and in a minute I knew why.
“I’ve ruined my life, and now I’m fat and fuckin impotent. I don’t do anything, all I do is sleep and eat and take up space. Why shouldn’t I kill myself?”
“Because all you’ll do is make me and your mom sad for the rest of our lives. We love you more than we love ourselves, Kevin. Killing yourself would be like killing us. Please, son, don’t do it.”
“Dad, I don’t care.” And I didn’t. I really didn’t. I was depressed and depression does something unexplainable to you.
“You want another reason, Kevin? Here it is. If you kill yourself, you will go straight to hell and never see any of us ever again. You want endless misery? You’ll get it. You’ll be tortured by the devil till the end of time. You thought you saw the devil in your CO? Well you won’t just be seeing him in other people, you’ll be seeing the real McCoy. Can you imagine an existence a million times worse than what you’re going through now?” Tears were welling up in his eyes. “Suicide is never the answer, Kevin. You’ll just be putting yourself in a torture chamber that you’ll never ever escape from. Don’t do that, Kevin, please.....because I couldn’t handle that. I don’t know how I’D go on knowing that you were suffering like that. Don’t do that to me, Kevin, please, don’t.” He turned away from me and began sobbing. Needless to say, that was the turning point for me and the whole suicide option. It just wasn’t possible after that. I realized that no matter how sad I was feeling, no matter how bad everything looked, making Dad feel like that would make life even worse. I also didn’t quite feel like rooming with the devil.
“Dad, I...” Seeing him again was incredible, I didn’t know what to say or do or...
“Here,” he handed me some clothes, “Get dressed, we’ll go grab something to eat, maybe throw a few games,” Bowling, one of our favorite past-times, “and we’ll figure out how to handle the situation.”
“But, Dad...” I stammered.
“Kev, there is a solution to everything. Go get dressed.” Yes, Sir.
“Where are you, Chris!?!” I screamed and screamed. It got darker. I screamed some more. “Don’t go! Come back! NOOOO!!!!!” Darkness covered me as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I woke up and there was my dad, smiling at me.
“Dad.....” I cried. I knew I would. The sight of him reduced me to tears. His reaction was predictable, and all Dad. As I sat up, he put his arms around me and gave me the best hug I’d received in years. Amy’s was nice, but this was Dad. He had been my hero from day one: Never once unsupportive, never once blaming me for any of my problems. He always explained to me that it was something I couldn’t control, and never could without help. Dad even saved my life. It was soon after I got out of the hospital.
I had given up completely. I mean completely. I was in my room at home, contemplating how to kill myself. I had several choices, none of them fun, but I had decided on the easiest. I had found where my mom kept my drugs and grabbed the whole group of them. Among them were several powerful sedatives that if taken in mass quantity would definitely put me down for the permanent count. I was sitting on my bed looking at the pill bottles, when I heard a knock on my door, “Who is it?”, I shouted, hoping it wasn’t him.
“Its me, son. I need to talk to you.”
His voice...
“About what?”
“Your mom can’t find your pills, do you have any idea where they are?” He knew. And he knew I knew he knew.
“Dad, just leave me alone, please....”
“Son, open the door.”
“Dad, I can’t.” I knew I was going to lose this battle.
“Son, open the door right now.”
“Or what?”
“Kevin, if you don’t open the door I’m going to break it down.....,” he said, his voice an octave higher.
“Please, Dad, leave...,” this was not the response he was looking for and within ten seconds he was inside my room with the door barely hanging on to its hinges. *I* was 6’7”, you can bet Dad wasn’t a small man. 6’3”, 210lbs.
“Kevin, what are you doing?” He didn’t understand and in a minute I knew why.
“I’ve ruined my life, and now I’m fat and fuckin impotent. I don’t do anything, all I do is sleep and eat and take up space. Why shouldn’t I kill myself?”
“Because all you’ll do is make me and your mom sad for the rest of our lives. We love you more than we love ourselves, Kevin. Killing yourself would be like killing us. Please, son, don’t do it.”
“Dad, I don’t care.” And I didn’t. I really didn’t. I was depressed and depression does something unexplainable to you.
“You want another reason, Kevin? Here it is. If you kill yourself, you will go straight to hell and never see any of us ever again. You want endless misery? You’ll get it. You’ll be tortured by the devil till the end of time. You thought you saw the devil in your CO? Well you won’t just be seeing him in other people, you’ll be seeing the real McCoy. Can you imagine an existence a million times worse than what you’re going through now?” Tears were welling up in his eyes. “Suicide is never the answer, Kevin. You’ll just be putting yourself in a torture chamber that you’ll never ever escape from. Don’t do that, Kevin, please.....because I couldn’t handle that. I don’t know how I’D go on knowing that you were suffering like that. Don’t do that to me, Kevin, please, don’t.” He turned away from me and began sobbing. Needless to say, that was the turning point for me and the whole suicide option. It just wasn’t possible after that. I realized that no matter how sad I was feeling, no matter how bad everything looked, making Dad feel like that would make life even worse. I also didn’t quite feel like rooming with the devil.
“Dad, I...” Seeing him again was incredible, I didn’t know what to say or do or...
“Here,” he handed me some clothes, “Get dressed, we’ll go grab something to eat, maybe throw a few games,” Bowling, one of our favorite past-times, “and we’ll figure out how to handle the situation.”
“But, Dad...” I stammered.
“Kev, there is a solution to everything. Go get dressed.” Yes, Sir.