It’s easy to imagine what my Mum would be like if she were alive today.
She’d spend way too much money on clothes for my girls… she’d rush to my boy’s defence, regardless of his wrongdoing… it would be great.
It’s harder to imagine what my Dad would be like.
I never really knew him while I was an adult… and it’s nearly 16 years ago that he passed away… but maybe it’s hard to imagine because even though it’s difficult to admit… I’ve held onto some resentment that he took his life.
My Dad called me moments before he died… I was in his thoughts… and it wasn’t enough to keep him here. It’s hard to fathom the pain he was in, and when I look at my kids now… I can’t comprehend leaving them behind.
I know he loved me… and for his pain to override all that he had to live for… it must have been excruciating.
But perhaps the resentment I’ve held has changed the way I looked at my Dad.
Over the years, I’ve landed on a belief that helps guide me through the turbulence of life… that we aren’t what happens to us, we are how we respond… and the layer of tragedy in this mindset is that in some way, I’ve been judging my Dad on his final response…
After losing my Dad… I found myself searching for guidance from other father figures throughout the world… and amidst the likes of Australian Icon Steve Irwin and other high quality characters, snuck a fictional American Icon… Ted Lasso… who extends on my belief.
“I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments… but rather by the strength we show when, and if we’re ever given a second chance”
The tragedy in Ted’s quote (which is probably someone else’s) is that my Dad didn’t get a second chance to respond… But as his legacy has lived on through R4R… he is not what happened to him… he is not what his final action was… he is so much more…
And I can continue to give him his second chance.
My Dad was principled, thoughtful, and had an unmatched work-ethic. He brought people together. He was the orchestrator of a group conversation, making people feel involved and making sure everyone was having fun.
He loved me, and whenever I find myself telling my kids I love them and that I’m proud of them… I’m reminded more and more of how often my Dad would do the same.
He was a great man… and If I could speak to him today… I’d apologise for taking so long to truly give him another chance.
Don’t get me wrong… I haven’t been cursing his name… but it wasn’t until I watched an interview with Rugby Legend Brad Thorn recently, that I realised I didn’t idolise my Dad the way I wanted to.
The way Brad talks about his father, with such love and respect, made me emotional. It made me realise that for nearly 16 years I’d been missing out on a better relationship with my Dad.
It’s something that will change from today.
Why am I sharing this?
I don’t think this is just a personal journey…
I think reconnecting with the ones we’ve lost to suicide can help shed light on how we can save more lives down the line.
Because the more I think about my Dad’s situation… the more I think that if he believed things could get better, if he knew the steps to get better, and if he felt safe from stigma in trying to get better… the more I believe that he’d be here today.
And I think those things are entirely possible to achieve.
Just. Keep. Moving.
I believe your dad would be here too