On occasion an invited guest shares their story for Who’s Here. This is a piece by my friend David.

David and his three daughters sitting close together on a couch shortly after his divorce from his first wife

David and his daughters shortly after his divorce from his first wife

There are watershed moments where I no longer can share the truth in my way, at my pace, in my time. Instead, I find myself paying the price for having not been candid with myself (and those I love) about the preceding circumstances.

Most recently, this was in the death of my daughters’ mother in 2006. Her decision that she was done with life was effectively punctuated with a suicide note that was found alongside her when my oldest daughter and I went over to check on her. A couple of months before, she had suddenly become softer and kinder, less angry, which was something I was grateful for. Sadly, something very much darker than peace was happening.

Matador dressed in white being tossed in the air by a charging bull

horns about to pierce

When the bull’s cage is opened, it doesn’t just peek around the corner and ask if it can please come out… it instead comes charging in, looking to exact payback for its captivity upon anybody in its path. So goes truth, at a moment like this. In the midst of the chaos of arriving back home (blessedly, everybody was there AND my mom was visiting) my ears were ringing with a question asked 8 years earlier by my oldest daughter (after a similar loss of a family friend)… “Daddy, is Mommy going to die like Kim did?” “No, sweetie, you don’t ever have to worry about that”.

Do we really help our children (no matter how young) when we make the decision to be less than candid with them?

At the age of 13, I lost my own father, and with him went my voice. Recently, I discovered “I hate you” would have been appropriate words AT THE TIME of his suicide. It surely would have saved me the inconvenience (35 years later) of screaming various forms of this important phrase at an empty chair to get it out of my system. Yes, I have fired my therapist, who took to hiding behind that empty chair for weeks on end, but I do reserve the right to re-hire him at any time.

With my girls, I thought I was well prepared to help them… the experienced one, expert even! When we met, she had a life-threatening disease, and my brain had a great conversation with itself “well, if we have kids, at least you know how to help them through it if she passes”. Ironically, while I am still working on getting my voice back after 35 years, I now must help them find theirs in the face of their loss?! They are teaching me much, and using truth to find their voices.

Since then, time has tempered the loss. “You shouldn’t expect to recover from her death but it will get better over time” is my mantra. Although the questions have tapered, At times they still make me catch my breath… “did it hurt when she died?”. I can only do this the way I was taught by mom. With tears (if we don’t cry, they can’t cry) and loving arms.

hand painted yellow bird on a branch of a tree

yellow bird with red beak

Transaction systems engineer – David Howard

Please send 500 word submissions for Who’s Here to jill@rawcandor.com

Photo of bull – Maniacworld.com