SUICIDE NOTE
- Oliver Selau
- há 4 dias
- 6 min de leitura
It was a Sunday morning, and George was at home getting ready to go out when he heard the doorbell ring. (Ding-dong!) He went to the door, opened it, and found a white envelope on the doormat at the entrance. A little curious, given the day and time of the delivery, he decided to open it right away. Inside the envelope, he found a folded white sheet that seemed to be a letter. The title read: “Dad, It’s Your Fault.” For a few seconds, George stood completely frozen. He carried the guilt of not having been a present father to his older children. George had always been a very free-spirited and pleasant person, and over the course of his life, he had had many relationships. From these, he had three children: Louis, Peter, and little Jasmine. The youngest was from his current marriage and still lived with him, as she was only eight years old. Louis, his eldest son, had always been very clever and independent. Though they didn’t talk much, George never had reason to worry about Louis. However, with Peter, his middle child, he had no contact, which always caused him great concern. Yet, after so many years of estrangement, George felt shame and fear about reaching out to him.
Apprehensive and now even more curious, George took a deep breath and went back inside the house. He sat on the living room sofa and began to read.
Dad, It’s Your Fault.
You know, Dad, I’m not even sure if I can call you that. You have no idea how much your absence hurt me. I decided to take my own life, and I think you need to know that. During my childhood, I used to sit in front of our house, watching the men passing by on the street, hoping one of them was you. I believed you would come back any moment to live with us. For years, I held onto the dream that you would walk through the door to play soccer with me, like my friends did with their fathers. Mom doesn’t know, but I used to stand by the door listening to her cry for many nights in a row after you left. The day you walked out on us, without any explanation, I lost both my mother and my father. Without you at home, Mom had to work two jobs to keep the bills paid and prevent us from ending up living in the car. But after she lost one of those jobs, that’s exactly what happened. Since I was still little, she pretended we were playing a camping game, but I saw her walking away from the car to cry. We spent months living in a supermarket parking lot until a friend Mom hadn’t seen in years found us there. Mom tried to hide, out of shame, but the woman realized what was happening and offered to help. She let us stay in a room at her house until Mom could afford to rent a place for us. After that time, when I was a bit older, I started wondering why you abandoned us. The only thing that came to mind back then was that you didn’t like me and that, when I was born, you decided to leave our home because you didn’t want children. I started blaming myself, and that made me a more and more introspective and reserved child. I remember begging God for you to show up at school on Father’s Day. I was so embarrassed not to have a dad at the Father’s Day presentation. The friend who helped Mom went to a church, and she said that if we asked God for something in Jesus’ name, He would answer us, but God never heard me. In my teens, I started hating you with all my strength. When someone asked about my dad, I said he was dead. I had spent my entire childhood watching the struggles my mom went through, alone, to make sure we didn’t lack anything, and that left a wound that, over time, turned into hatred. Besides, you never looked for us again, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I really wanted to have more moments with you. I missed you so much. In the end, after all that disappointment, only one promise remained: that I would never be to my children what you were to me—absent. I would never abandon my family like you did.
When I turned twenty-one, I met a girl at work. I fell in love the moment I saw her smiling. She was beautiful and sweet, always worried about me, asking how I was every morning. With a lot of effort, I mustered the courage to ask her out for coffee. A year and two months later, we were married. It didn’t take long for our first child to be on the way. When he was two years old, my wife and I had a really bad fight. Honestly, I don’t even remember the real reason. I didn’t know how to be a husband, having been raised without a father, and she had also grown up with just her mother. What brought us together in the beginning now seemed to be the main problem: the absence of a father figure. Living together was getting harder and harder, and the demands kept growing. I didn’t know how to be a husband and father and was still too young and proud to ask for help.
When our son turned four—we had been married for seven years that year—after his birthday party, we had another really bad fight. Amid insults and yelling, I decided to leave the house before things got worse. I grabbed some clothes, put them in a backpack, and walked out the door without knowing where to go. I remember my wife sitting on the living room sofa, holding our son, crying with her head down. With nowhere to go, I drove for hours until I reached the coast. Then, I parked the car in front of the sea and got out. I sat on a large rock, staring at the ocean, wondering what I could do. What were my options? The only thing going through my mind was to walk into the sea and surrender to the waves. Death seemed like the best option. I went back to the car, grabbed paper and a pen, and started writing a suicide note addressed to my mother and my wife. Why live? I was tired of fighting against the current. I didn’t have a father, I lived far from my mother, who only worked, and now I was about to lose the woman of my life and my son. I was an idiot, but I didn’t know how to be different. Leaving them in peace seemed to make sense at that moment. I don’t know why, but while sitting on that rock, I remembered Mom’s friend. She used to say that everything we asked God for in Jesus’ name, He would do. So, I started saying, “God, I want to die. Please, God, I want to die, in Jesus’ name.” At that very moment, the phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a message from my wife that said, “Why did you abandon us? Come back home.”
When I read the message, my entire childhood flashed through my mind in a fraction of a second. I started crying uncontrollably. I was overwhelmed by a mix of shame and guilt. I was about to do to my son what you had done to me: abandon him. I had always promised I wouldn’t do that, but I was on the verge of doing it. After crying a lot, asking God for forgiveness and help, I got up from that rock determined to seek help, and the only person who came to mind was Mom’s friend. When I told her what was happening, she prayed with me and introduced me to someone who changed my entire life.
Since the day I decided to take my life, I’ve been fighting to be a better father and husband, but to do that, I need to let go of the resentment your absence left in my heart. So, Dad, I want to tell you that I forgive you for not being present in my childhood. I forgive you for not showing up at school on any Father’s Day. I forgive you for not helping me and Mom during tough times. I forgive you for not calling me on my birthday. I forgive you for not attending my wedding. I forgive you for not being there at the birth of my son, your grandson. I forgive you for never asking to be part of my life. And I hope that, on the next Grandparents’ Day, you’ll show up at your grandson’s school. I had to grow up without my father, but I really want my son to grow up close to his grandpa. The fault is yours, Dad, but the forgiveness is mine, and I’m willing to offer it to you if you’re willing to move forward from here and help me overcome what happened.
Now, get up and open the door again, please. I need to introduce you to your grandson, and I really want to give you a hug.
Comentários