A difficult time of year...

11th of October, 2006 was, and still is, a day that I wish I could erase.

It was on this day that my Dad felt he could take no more of whatever pain he was suffering, and decided to take his own life.  It's a day that gutted me, and leaves be feeling hollow to this day. That said, I think it's possibly changed me in positive ways, though I wished that I could have found these things out in a less painful manner.

I remember seeing my dad the day before his passing, having dropped by to say hello. He appeared down and a bit withdrawn. He tended to get fairly stressed with the pressures of running his own business, so this wasn't necessarily unusual. This time, he was concerned about his yellow pages advertising not being effective enough. For a small business, advertising is fairly critical, so it's probably a reasonable thing to be concerned about.  Both my mum and I tried to reassure him that things were okay, and that things weren't anywhere near as bad as he was thinking.  It felt like he had listened and he seemed a bit more upbeat. With that, it was time to go home. My mum and dad saw me off in their driveway, my dad giving me a firm hug and telling me that he loved me, before I hopped in the car and drove away.  That was the last time I saw him alive.

In hindsight, I suspect at that point he'd already made up his mind, and that he was really telling me goodbye.

The following night, I received a phone call. It was my brother, sounding a little shaken. His words "..   he's done it. He's killed himself... " cut with a sharpness that is difficult to describe.  The phone nearly dropped out of my hands. I was empty. I was speechless. I felt lost.

I nervously got in the car and headed to my dad's workshop in Glynde, only a ten minute drive away. On turning into the street I could see the entire street bathed in the flashing red and blue lights of the attending police and ambulance. It was at this point that I knew there was no mistake. This was real; very real. I remember slowing as I approached, wishing it all to go away, but eventually I parked up the road and got out, to be met by my sister in law, and my brother. No words were necessary, the expressions on their faces spoke volumes. We stood around in the cool night air, comforting each other as emergency services went about their tasks, each of us not really knowing where things would go from this point forward .

I was fortunate to have a good mate, Nick, help me through this night, allowing me to visit to escape from it all for a while. This is something, that while small, meant the world to me at the time, and for which I'll always be grateful. Eventually though, I knew had to go home, but even when I did so I just sat in the park across the road and watched the sun rise.

During the next few days there were a lot of questions in my head. Why did he do this? How did things come to this? Could I have done anything? Could I have done more? Was it my fault? These are questions that realistically no one, save for my Dad, could know the answer to. So I'm left, to this day, without closure.

I've seen heartbreaking posts by friends, describing hospital visits where they've had to say their last goodbyes to loved ones knowing that they're soon to take their last breath. Deep down, I wish I had that opportunity. Instead all I was afforded was a few minutes alone, holding the cold hand of my lifeless Dad as he lay in his coffin, tearfully promising to be the best I could be, and that I hope I'd make him proud.

The funeral came and went, with me giving, in my opinion, my best ever public speaking performance. I like to think of it as a performance since I think at that point I still had a feeling of detachment from the whole situation. Slowly though, it was sinking in. Tears flowed as we listened to Phantom of the Opera, my Dad's favourite song (and his phone ringtone!) while watching an all too brief series of photos flash before us.

In the following weeks and months, my brother and his wife were absolute stars; taking care of most of the business related things that needed tidying up, allowing my mum to distance herself a little from this aspect. I doubt whether I could have been so strong in the face of this crisis, and so I saw a side of my brother that earned him a great deal of respect, not just from me, but I suspect from many around him.

My Dad was always one to put work above all else. It's an ethos that he drilled in both myself and my brother. He was also someone who respected someone doing their best, but didn't exhibit a win and all costs mentality. Basically, if you're going to do something, don't do it half arsed. Since losing him, I frequently question the work above all else mentality. It is, I feel, what put him in the situation that he was in. Always striving to work harder with no apparent reward, except to work harder still. It just makes no sense to me. Sadly, it took losing him to work out where that can lead to.  That said, I fully appreciate the "do your best" attitude and hope that my efforts in whatever I choose to do, qualify as "my best".

I wonder what he would have been doing now if he was still with us? Being a bit of a tech head like myself he'd probably be amazed but all manner of brand new gadgets. Since he was the person to teach me how to use a camera, what would he think of my fancy camera gear? And what would he make of me racing bikes? I have frequently found myself just pausing for a moment, having a mildly sad moment, thinking "dad would have liked this"

I think if he were with us, he'd be happy for me, and hopefully proud of the things that I've accomplished.

I can on only wish that no one ever has to go through the nightmare that is a loved one taking their life. Sadly, I know it's a wish that's unlikely to come true. Please look out for each other, and if you're feeling like there's no way out, stay strong, and talk to someone.