My dad decided to die

It has been a little over 2 weeks since my nightmare began- my dad chose death over life.
He leaves me, his only child, and my children struggling for answers, trying to understand and make sense of it all.

As I have been attempting to understand and pick up some of the pieces, I decided it would be good to document my journey, in hopes that through writing, I can heal or perhaps help others going through the same thing, or help someone who is hopeless and in the same place as my dad.

I'm going to begin by telling my dad's story. My dad was born in 1952. He was a cute kid with eyes that smiled all the time and a grin that was irresistible. When he got older, he fell in love with a few things, drinking, ladies, and motorcycles. He met my mom and they married- then I was born. Their love affair was short lived, and they divorced when I was still very young.
My dad found relief from drinking when I was only 5 years old. He had over 25 yrs clean and was very active in AA and an inspiration to those who also struggled.
He worked for the Union Pacific Railroad, for over 21 yrs.
My dad was a hard man and rough on the outside, but had a big heart along with those rows of tattoos on his arms. He just had a hard time expressing his feelings.
In recent years, dad had become ill with MS and his legs weren't working like they used to. Instead of moving to where my family lived so I could help, he chose to stay states away.

When dad had to sell his motorcycle, he was crushed. They were his life. He would buy them, and eventually get a new one.. but this time there was no new bike. This is where I think the beginning of his end was.

Dad's mood changed, and he was very irritable. It didn't matter what I said when I called, everything was always wrong and he always complained about everyone and everything. In the last 6 months the kids even had a hard time talking to him... if only we had known that he was so close to the end, I would had forced him to move with me.

On June 23,2010 my dad took one of his guns (he had many) went out on his porch, and shot himself through his mouth. He seated himself in a recliner, and sat there for 1/2 a day before his caretaker found him.

I received the news of his passing from my uncle. The police had called him as they found several things around the house listing him as a contact. I thought he had died of a heart attack and was shocked to find he had died of his own hand.
Our family packed our bags, and began our 26 1/2 hr (Straight through!) journey from Michigan to Idaho.
Once there, we had so much to do. Immediately I found a few pieces to the puzzle- my dad had booze and weed all around his place. This explained the mood change within the last year.
The mortuary was compassionate, but I found out that I was to be burdened with the expense of his death and body. I had to write his obituary, plan what to do with his body and for a service, and at the last minute I asked to see him. I just wanted to hug him one more time.

We went through my dad's things for a few days- my uncle looking for all the legal paperwork (everything in the will had been left to him in the will), and I was tirelessly looking for something, some clue as to what my dad was thinking. I collected a pile of memories, clothing, small clocks, flashlights, pens- to keep- I wasn't ready to let him go! My kids enjoyed playing at grandpa's one last time. They did much better then I thought they would, but little did I know the tears that would flow later.

The police were less then nice. They explained the note they had found, where my dad had said awful things to me. This final act for him was a direct attempt to devastate me. He succeeded. I wanted every single detail from the detective. When they told me dad used his left hand to shot the gun, I thought for sure someone had murdered him- he couldn't have done this to me!!

My dad's memorial was small, but nice. Since he wasn't affiliated with a church, and a mortuary was stuffy, we did it at a park. His buds rode their bikes from dad's favorite shop to the park, and I set up pictures along with some of my dad's things. His ashes sat on the table in the middle of it all. If only he had been able to see how very loved he was before it was too late!

The week was one big exhausting blur. I half expected this to be a big joke on me- to have dad pop out of somewhere saying this was his way of getting me to Idaho. However, it was no joke. It's my life now.

2 weeks later, I am burdened by wondering why? I go to sleep every night thinking about him in that chair. He'll not be there for my kids next birthday's, their graduations, or their weddings. He took the most precious thing he could from me- and I am left to deal with all the hurt, with all the questions, and with all the tears.