Everything Dies In April.

I think my father died today.

There were daffodils, but no tulips. Because the daffodils come up before the tulips.

I know it was sometime around now, but I don't know the exact day. Isn't that odd.

Logan works across the street from the "Memorial Garden" my father is buried in. I drive past the cemetary on occasion while meeting Logan for lunch, as I pass the southeastern most corner I briefly ask myself, "How does this make you feel?"

I answer to myself, 'Nothing really.' I then ask myself, as a therapist from my past did, "What do you imagine someone in your position might feel? Passing the cemetary her father is buried at. The father who committed suicide. The father who was not very good at being a father. What do you think she might feel?"

This weekend Logan and I were driving to Ann Arbor, alone, with no kids, which means we can talk and I mentioned how I don't know how I feel about it all. Logan said, "Well, you know how you feel about it." This website is volume upon volume of how I feel about things. Logan has listened to how I feel about things for nearly 12 years now. Where Logan has often struggled to pinpoint his feelings, I typically know how I feel about things. Sometimes I'm so sure about how I feel, I know how he feels too.

But I replied that no, I really didn't. And I don't, exactly.

For most of my childhood he drank on the weekends only. Which doesn't sound that bad, except that he started after work on Friday and drank all night and all day right through until he blacked out on Sunday. Then on Monday morning he pulled himself together and went back to work and all was relatively calm. Until the next weekend. I hated the weekends. I cried as I rode home on the bus on Friday afternoons knowing what the weekend would hold.

At some point after the first suicide attempt he just stopped getting up on Monday morning. He stopped going to work, he stopped pulling himself together to face the week like a normal person. They tried not to fire him. I remember co workers coming to the house, begging him to get help. To come back to work. To get it together.

For some reason, this finally broke my mother's will to make her marriage work. And God love her she tried to make it work for so damn long. The cost of trying to make it work is something I still hold anger in my soul about.

They divorced and my father refused to leave. He lived in the living room for nearly a year while my mother went through the long drawn out process of evicting him from the home. He watched the Gong Show and became quite adept at The Price Is Right. The house was silently stewing with anger and grief.

Walking into that house felt like dying.

One day my mother sent us to a friend's after school and we knew what was happening. The police came to physically remove my father from the house my mother had been awarded in the divorce. He'd been preparing for this day. He'd started loading up our only car (which had been awarded to my mother as well, but she cut her losses on that one, happy to have him gone) with his belongings. He'd put a chain lock on the bedroom door. And most importantly he'd stacked cases of Old Milwaukee in the bedroom.

After he was gone I would have nightmares he came back. I'd come downstairs in the morning and he'd be sitting on the sofa watching The Gong Show

"This Unknown Comic, would you look at him! He's got a God damn bag on his head! He's hilarious!"

I'd look at my mother and she had no answers. He was back. It was all starting over again.

After he left I'd see him around town. The sight of a brown Town and Country station wagon with wood on the sides would give me panic attacks on the bus. I would duck so he wouldn't see me. He'd fallen hard and fast to the gutter type of drunk once he finally left the safety of the Gong Show and the living room sofa.

A girl I knew in high school saw him at the fast food restaurant she worked at. He told her he was my father. This bloated homeless looking man who drove with all his belongings in a station wagon was my father. He told her to say hello to me. So she did. I'm sure she also mentioned it to her friends.

"Melissa Williams' father is a bloated homeless man who hangs out at fast food restaurants."

This did not help my invisibility cause.

When my father died, it was all so horrific. Not the death, but the whole life before that single event where it ended. It sounds horrible to say but his death was a release from the guilt of having a father I had given up on. A father I was humiliated to have. A father who had let me down.

I was 15 or 16 when he died. I remember my therapist from that time saying to me. "You lived with him for 15 years of your life, it will take that long for you to feel removed from all that pain and suffering. It will take at least that long to be separated from the shame and memory of where you come from."

At 18, thirty looked so far away. But he was at least sort of right. I can write about it now. I can think about it now. Except now that I'm removed from it, I'm able to actually grieve it in a way I couldn't when there was so much shame piled on top of me. Shame of where I came from. Shame of who and what my family was.

I didn't and still don't for the most part, feel sad about his death or the way he died. I feel the most grief for the way he lived. And what it cost us all to live with him.

Comments

[Momsy]

On of your best. And that's saying something.

[Momsy]

One of your best. And that's saying something.

[Alecia]

Hey Melissa- I don't usually post comments to blogs, but I wanted to say how much respect I have for you right now. Usually I read your stuff and laugh, remember I'm not alone, read stuff to my hubby, fix myself a drink...but today I cried. For you and for myself and for all the kids whose lives are stained with this kind of grief.

Is is creepy to want to hug a gal you've never met?
Creepy in Seattle

[stillheidi]

Hey Melissa,
Thanks for sharing that with us.
I just lost my father in January. I am thirty now and had time to resolve a lot of issues and forgive him for a lot of shit before he died. I am glad I had that chance because I think I needed to get it all out before he passed or I would be a wreck now. I give you so much credit for being able to have dealt with all of this at such a young age. Its always somethin' huh?

[wdc]

Amazing post. Thank you so much for sharing.

[mamaloo]

wow, just wow.

very powerful. thank you for sharing something so personal and painful.

I want to say I relate. my father (technically my stepfather) was a drunk and strange and I dreaded contact with him and he lived in my house--I couldn't get away. I was ashamed of him and I still am. I hated his interactions with people I knew. I have many many painful memories of shame around him and I can't really look at pictures of him.

and I wasn't sad when he died and I'm not sad now. I'm mostly f-in angry.

I'm really sorry you had to go through that. I really am.

[Jessica]

Melissa,

Stunningly heart-wrenching and beautiful all the same. I agree with others - thank you so much for sharing your grief, your ambivalence and your pain.

Jessica (in Seatt

[AMG]

When I was a freshman in high school, the girl who was my best friend in high school's father committed suicide under very, very similar circumstances - in the middle of their living room, in his favorite chair.

I remember not knowing what to say...not knowing how she felt. He was the first person I had ever known who had died.

I still don't know what to say to her.

AMG
www.anonymousmidwestgirl.com

[Phil]

Hello Melissa --

I send you wishes of peace. And to your Williams family, too.

[Cricket]

What a powerful post!

Everyone has different needs and desires for closure/specifics, so your need to resolve (or not) details may not matter. In case they do, here is how to order death records: http://www.vitalrec.com/death.html

This gives you the details to do it by mail. Generally they run about $10.

As a clarifier, me doing genealogy isn't b/c the family members I have are so wonderful and deserve glorification, it is b/c I actually have so much more family than the idiots who happen to be living at the same time as me.

[Greg]

Thanks for helping break the cycle.

It's not just for you. When I have kids of my own, they'll have that much less pain and hurt to deal with in regards to living on the planet.

It's appreciated.

[reenie]

You sound numb. And a little defeated. I wish you had a chance at a normal childhood with a father you could go to for the crises in your life. Instead he was your crises. I remember thinking recently of my divorced father and how sometimes it feels like it would be easier if he was dead. Then I wouldn't have to feel unwanted and ashamed that he couldn't stick around for his kids or his wife. You're right...the cost of trying to make it work is huge. I'm sorry. Good things happen in May, don't they?

[Astacia]

Ditto to Alecia's comment....

[Ken]

Melissa, sometimes you write such heart-wrenchingly beautiful things that I'm almost afraid to comment, for fear of ruining the effect.

I don't think you sound numb, or defeated. It sounds like you've achieved peace. That means you've won.

[dayment]

I think you've dealt with it fabulously.
We all heal ourselves in our own way.

[Lisa]

"numb" and "defeated" ??!!! ...what???

you sound strong. and brave. and honest.

thank you.

[Lisa]

"numb" and "defeated" ??!!! ...what???

you sound strong. and brave. and honest.

thank you.

[Boogie's Mom]

Wow, that was powerful. I'm glad you've had time to heal and look at everything you've gone through with a whole new perspective. While I don't know what it must have been like to experience what you did, I kind of felt that way when my grandpa died. He was not a very good person, and I hadn't seen him in years. At his funeral, which I went to to support my dad, I remember looking at him in his coffin and thinking, "Hmm, so that's what he looked like." No sadness about him dying, not really any emotion at all. I just felt bad for my dad, and all that he missed out on by not having the type of father that he should have.

I feel the same way for you, but I feel good knowing that you have such a wonderful family with your husband and kids.

[Kel]

What a brave post. When my father passed, he had a blood alcohol level that could have killed two average healthy individuals.

I will work (and I mean work) for the rest of my life to remember the better times and to explain with as much love as I can to my children why they need to care about his choices. A man they never met. I man I'm not sorry they never met (except to feel sorry that I'm not sorry...).

I meant to delurk and only to have said, "I'm sorry for this pain of yours." What I hope to have communicated is, "I understand this pain of yours and I'm sorry you have it."

Out of death there is often rebirth.

Kel

[kismet]

I know what it took to share that. Thank you for listening to your herat.
~K!

[LisaV]

Melissa, that was wonderful. I am an al-anon member, I couldn't put my thoughts together that well in a 'safe' meeting, let alone write them down.
I'm sorry for your pain in the past, and now. You should be proud of the life you have created now.

[Lil' Sis]

I don't think I can say anything better than you have. I had it easier because I was younger. That's about the only thing I feel guilt about. Well, that and when I tell people who ask how he died and they end up feeling bad. I feel bad that they feel bad for me, but I don't feel bad that he's gone. He's happier, we're happier, and that social security money probably saved our lives.

And Lis, don't go getting the death record. I have it, and it won't make you feel any better.

Love you.
Miao.

[Robin]

Wow...that's quite a story and must have been so hard on you.

I have NO idea what that must have been like for you.

Your father was sick though, and I'm sure if he could have looked at things from a healthy perspective he would feel so sorry for the pain he caused you and your family.

If you can let go of the anger and see that this man was ill maybe you can forgive, and love him.

[MollieBee]

Sorry Melissa, my dad sucked too. Our kids will never have to deal with that bullshit, and that's what keeps me going when I feel like I want to break shit from all the emotions in me.

[Jane]

Thank you for sharing your story. My mom suicided when I was 19, but I haven't yet reached the place where I can write about it. According to your therapist, I have three years to go before I'll feel removed from my pain. Right now, that seems like a life time.

[Linda]

Melissa, You're doing just fine and don't doubt it for a minute.
Linda

[Karen]

Hi. I've been reading your journal for a while and have never commented. I loved this entry for its honesty. I am so sorry that your experience with your father was something so painful. I think life teaches us that nothing is ever easy and that as humans we are all flawed and we are all searching the world to find the answers that will give us peace. I hope you find your answers. I hope your father is somewhere watching over you.

[jo]

You have come so far, so very far. Good on you and thank you for sharing it with us, I know it took a lot out of you.

[andrea]

Hi, I've been lurking for a while. That was amazing. You sound like you've done wonderfully for yourself, so that is what matters.

[Brook]

Thank you.

[Amanda]

That is one of the most poignant pieces I've ever read. I can't imagine what you've been through, but you must have had one hell of a mother because you seem to be a top-notch parent.

Sometimes horrible things happen to tbe best people, but I can tell you've grown stronger from those shitty experiences.

[trisha]

Melissa, my father drank himself to death. Literally. I wish I had some words for you, for me, but I don't.

I also wish just knowing we aren't alone helped. Does it? I don't know. I think I would rather be alone in this than know others have this kind of pain.

Thanks for writing this.

[Mir]

What Momsy said.

Thank you for sharing this.

[Sarcastic Journalist]

I feel really bad for the little Melissa. I feel bad for the "big" melissa who has to remember this. I'm sorry I don't have more to say, but I have deep respect for you and your situation. I hope you will be able to grieve this as best as you can.

[Kat]

Hi Melissa,
From one child of an alcoholic father to another, ((((hugs)))). And kudos for such a wonderful post. ~kat

[jill]

Thank you Melissa for sharing your most painful memory. I know it couldn't have been easy, but I'm sure it helps with some of your healing.

You are an amazing women, mother, wife and daughter.

[Psycho Kitty]

I can't find the right words. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

[alice]

thank you.

[Meredith]

For your healing and sharing we all become more whole and human. Thank you.

[emily]

Randy's mother was and is like this.Early in our marriage I asked him if he loved her(she didn't raise him and he calls her by her first name)he told me he cared for her because she was his mom,but he didn't love her for being his mom or the kind of mom she was.
Great post.I'm just sorry it was a true story.

[kelly]

I am sitting at my desk with tears in my eyes.

Thank you for such a personal and powerful entry.

[Sabrina]

Thank you for sharing that with us. You do sound like you're dealing well and maybe it's getting easier and anytime a burden becomes lighter life is just a little easier.

[landismom]

Big hugs, from one whose father is still in the process of drinking himself to death.

[RisibleGirl]

Wow...

De-lurking

I think your post was very timely for me. I just found out about my own father's suicide, but he was a man I didn't know.

http://www.mostlyrisible.com/index.php/weblog/comments/suicide/

After reading your post, I feel blessed in a way that I didn't know my father because I suspect (based on the types of men my mother was attracted to back then) that he would have been the same kind of father as yours.

Many hugs for you, and thank you for posting this.

[reenie]

Sorry - I didn't mean "defeated" as in defeated by the world and this part of your life. I wasn't thinking that at all. I don't know what I meant. But not that. I was in the house when someone tried to kill himself with a knife and he bled all over the house. He said he did it because of me. That probably colored my perception of your writing. I think you're really strong and I admire you a great deal. I do think you sounded a little numb, though...when you described how you didn't know what you felt. That sounds numb to me but that's not bad - it's a coping thing.
Sorry - I'm totally not a great writer but I commented because I was really affected by what you wrote. That is all.

[halloweenlover]

I'm so sorry, Melissa. That is a beautiful and sad story. Thanks for sharing. My best friend growing up had a father so similar it sent chills down my spine. He would sit in the living room 24 hours a day and watch tv, and I never knew what to say to her. She practically lived with me, went on vacations with me, and we never talked about it.

So happy you are able to move forward now. Hugs to you.

[alice, uptown]

Lis,

You speak very eloquently about a time in your life that was the hell of Vicious Cycle. Unfortunately, I know it intimately.

In my family, after my father manipulated his way into a get-out-of-rehab early card, we spoke of his addiction only when it became blatent, like the time he disappeared on my mom. Then, my mom didn't tell my brother and me that he had gone missing until after 24 hours had passed. I think she was working on the principle, if I don't tell anyone, it's not real. But it was. I was 28 and calling every hospital in the New York tri-state area. When I was 30, my dad died, ostensibly and for public record of a heart attack.

In retrospect, 14 years later, I empathize with his demons -- I know them well -- but in the end, he was a better friend than father or husband. For that, I am sorry. I loved him more than he could love himself.

[Amy]

More brilliant writing. You really proved that you can write about painful things as well as you can write about funny things. Thank you for sharing this.

[Linda]

My father died ten years ago of liver cancer. It was a long sad illness. I thought I had worked out so much stuff by the time he died. I thought I had worked out so much in the last ten years. But when I talk about him, I still hear how angry I am. It is hard work and you are doing it. Your writing is an outlet and you use it well. Keep talking about it, keep writing about it, it is part of your life.

You are very brave to have let the light shine on this corner of you.

[Lisa in Chicago]

Damn girl, I'm proud of you. I'm proud of the way you've decided to stop spending beyond your means. I'm proud of this post and what it says about your strength as an individual, a mother, a lover and a woman. My fiancee is an alcoholic. The type of alcoholic that thinks he's different than other alcoholics and that AA doesn't work for him. My father left when I was 12, after having a relationship with another woman for 2 years. What this all brings me to, is that you give me hope, and I know I've said it in emails before, but I wanted to say it again. You give me hope. Thank you for that.

[CityMama]

I understand your post on so many levels even though my father is still alive. How bizarre that we both chose today to blog about our fathers.

http://citymama.typepad.com/citymama/2005/04/oh_father.html

[AmyinMotown]

Thank you. Thank you for sharing your pain and giving us a glimpse of what you had to do to get where you are.

This, funny lady, is why I think you absolutely do have a book. You can write about this without sounding pitiable or angry or touchy-feely -- you sound honest and compelling. And then the next post wll probably be something that will make me spit Syrah out of my nose from laughter--and both are as true as can be. That is true talent and the mark of someone who has something to say.

[Maia]

So sorry...

[ada]

I have to say Melissa, I think AmyinMotown is correct. You are a gifted writer and have something not just interesting and engaging ot say, but extremely important.

This is what you should be thinking about when you write a book. This is how you can touch people.

[Prissy]

Melissa, hey, just wanted to say I know what you're going through. My mom tried 3 times,she made, but I still have the memories of that ambulance ride. I promised myself my son would never go through that. Things would be different for him. I stay sane for him and for myself. He will never go through the things I did. You know what I mean.

[mgood]

It's a shame that someone else's sadness can make for such compelling reading. Your putting in words such a complex mix of feelings so honestly and brilliantly must have been difficult. But I'm glad you tried. Blogging makes you care about people you don't know. I most sincerely hope you found what you were hoping to feel, if not through your writing then through all of the caring comments. Thanks for sharing.

[Leslie]

Melissa...
I'm at a loss for words, but I need to comment anyway.

Your writing (both at its wittiest moments and saddest moments) touches me so much. This post will stay with me for a long time.

I'm happy that you have such a wonderful family to surround you with love and happiness. You are very fortunate.

Thank you.

[Jennifer]

I think you are an amazing woman who doesn't give herself quite enough credit.

Thank goodness you have all of us to give you the due you're due.

Peace, Melissa. Lots of it.

[mrs. holmes]

This post is the reason I read your blog. In the middle of funny takes on ordinary life, you give us one of these. It's so honest. Thanks.

[Matthias]

Hey

what a touching post. I'm so sorry for you, and happy that you are able to think about it and write about it in that way. Take care.

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes

Matthias

[Carrie]

Coming out of lurk mode to say: What is it with drunks and the Price is Right? My dad never has gotten good at it, though he sure does yell at the TV a lot. I don't have any words of comfort or wisdom, but just wanted to say something like "I feel your pain" b/c I come from a very similiar background minus the suicide. I was always terrified that people would find out. I was so glad to run away to college when I turned 18.

Very touching post.

[SAJ]

I'm crying for you.

[Darlene]

Melissa,
your post was most powerful and brought back some memories for me, my mom was and probably still is an alcoholic and drug addict, I have a few good memories but a lot of bad memories, we live in the same city but yet she does not know where I live and will never know if I have anything to do with it, I have not seen her in about 10 years and have spoke to her twice maybe in about 5 years I keep expecting to get the "call" and am very surprised that I have not, I am 36 and I feel still have not gotten over a lot from my childhood, I believe I have blocked some things out and I know I am a good person now but I have my issues deep inside because of it, I applaud you for going on with your life and giving your two children a childhood that from what I can tell you did not have.

[jilbur]

peace to you, Melissa. xoxox

[Stephanie]

...better than most memoirs I've read dealing with this topic. My heart goes out to you. As a survivor of my own horrific little childhood I can say to you -- You rock. You are an amazing woman, writer. You won.

[emma]

Thanks Melissa.
I always really enjoy reading your blog, but this entry took it to another place for me.
I'm the child of an alcoholic mother. So far it's been over 20 years and I've given up on there ever being an end to it.
Sometimes I feel so very alone with my experiences and reading an entry like this one makes me feel just a little less like that.
So thank you.

[pam]

What a story, Melissa. Thank you so much for sharing.