The Definitive Life Moment

Everyone has at least one moment, event or time that will define their life for better or worse. Sometimes we don't recognize it in that moment as a major life changer but at some point we recognize it for what it is. The story that follows is just that for me. 

It was early morning and in the fog of being awakened out of a sound sleep, mom ushered my siblings and I into a single room. I had faintly heard the doorbell then quickly returned to my slumber. Little did I know or understand that this would be the most significant moment in my life. It would define and shape every decision and reaction I would face from this day forward … it was June 1977. 

I had turned 13 in April and we had moved from Key West to Pinellas Park, Florida just a couple of months earlier. To say that I was unhappy with the move would have been an understatement. My stepdad, Eddie or as we called him Sandy, was in the U.S. Coast Guard. We had spent three wonderful years in Key West and it was hard to be excited about living anywhere else.

Mom had tried to reassure us that it would be a great adventure. Also, we would be closer to our real dad, William, and closer to grandparents. But, truth be told, anyplace would have been hard-pressed to win over a bunch of kids that enjoyed the sun, sand and beach literally in their backyard.

Every time Sandy got stationed somewhere new his pay would always get lost or sent to his old duty station. That was back before direct deposit. It usually took a couple of months to get straightened out.

The move to St. Petersburg was no different. We didn’t have government housing so we had to move to the suburb of Pinellas Park. The subdivision was a cement jungle with stucco cracker box houses that stood one after another by the thousands, it seemed.

It was these times that mom had to find work so that we could have food to eat and a roof over our heads. This time she found work at a clothing factory that required long hours. Over the years, she had worked at lots of jobs to see us through so this was just another one. I wasn’t happy with this job because she had to leave before we had to be at school and she didn’t get home until hours after we got home.

Mom had hired the lady that lived next door to drive us to school and to babysit my youngest brother during the day. I can’t remember this lady’s name but I can see her face all bunched into a scowl and hear her saying, “No talking, no laughing, just be quiet or else!” She would turn up the radio and every morning  “Hotel California” would blast through the speakers.

Every morning during those few months, I would get everyone up and see that they had breakfast, dressed and were ready by the time the neighbor was ready to leave. “I am not waiting on you,” she would say. “I will leave you here and your mom will have to deal with you.”

This particular morning was different. The sun had not yet peaked out over the horizon. It was earlier to be sure but there was something else about this wake up that shook me to my core even before mom began.

Sitting there on the bed, I saw in mom’s face that this was hard for her to say. Even at 13, I knew it was not good news. “I have to tell you something, “ she started. “I just got a phone from your Grandma Grimes.” My heart sank as my mind filled with all kinds of possibilities but the one it actually turned out to be. “Your dad is dead. He shot himself in the head.” My head began to spin and the tears came fast. “Why, why would he have done that,” I screamed. Of course, there was no clear answer then and there still isn't today. Mom held us as we tried to comprehend what we had heard. Through the shock, we packed so we could leave for Panama City, then on to the funeral in lower Alabama.

The packing, the trip and even the funeral were a blur. A time of extreme grief and confusion that would come to define my life in the most profound ways. I look back now and realize that loss is hard anytime but to lose a parent as a child can either fortify or destroy a person.  Then, to lose a parent to suicide is to live with a stigma made it even worse.

“Is suicide hereditary,” someone asked me once.  “You know like other mental health diseases.” Everyone asked how my dad died – teachers, preachers, doctors, friends and neighbors. Rarely did I tell the truth.

As I grew older, this question would haunt me. Was it hereditary? When challenging situations arose, I would think about it but never consider it. Why? Because, I felt what it did to me. Felt it! It’s a deep jagged sword that cuts and tears at your very soul.

There were times when I was reckless and took more chances than I should. I yearned for my dad to be there to tell he loved me, to brush away the tears when I fell and to pick me up again.

I learned that life is precious and that every minute counts. I also learned that every one is gift and we aren’t promised tomorrow. I learned to tell those I love and care about that I love them every chance I get.

I still have moments when I wonder why my dad chose to end his life and there are still moments I get angry that he did because I look at my siblings, my son and my grandson and see him in them. I would love for a moment to see him see them and see the joy in his eyes at what he helped to create. It’s a great legacy really.

Grudges and animosity have become less important to me and I can hardly tolerate negativity.  There are very few things in this life we truly control and our attitude is 100% self-driven. When you hold on to grudges or hate, those individuals are influencing and affecting your life by your choosing.

I learned that while my dad chose to commit suicide, I can choose to let it destroy me or it can become a positive foundation in which to build my life. I chose the latter. It taught me that my actions, no matter how benign, they affect others.  It’s cause to weigh those actions. Adversity is life and I chose to find the good and the blessings in it.

Do I ever look around and feel sorry for myself because of my trials and tribulations? Yes, but I only allow it for a second because there is always someone that is facing much worse. Then, I pray for them and for me.

The greatest danger in this life is living inward, meaning always looking to satisfy our own selfish wants and needs. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be continually working to make ourselves better people but living without regard for others is destructive and hallow.

My life’s biggest regret is not ever telling, actually saying the words, “I love you” to my dad. I wrote it in letters but never remember saying those words. This has been one of my biggest lessons. I don’t let anyone I love leave my presence or get off the phone without telling them that I love them.

Love is what connects us all but with it comes responsibility - the responsibility of nurturing it into something that carries us through the hard times and embellishes the good.