The circumstances of Dad's death make it difficult to process. I don't know that you can rate these sorts of things, but the process portion of Mom's death was easier. You could take a snapshot of any portion of her life and see God's plan. Everyone watched her struggles, everyone saw her fight. Dad's fight was not so obvious.
It's easy to pass judgment. It's so much simpler to think he was a depressed man, wallowing in self-pity who committed a selfish and cowardly act. Those thoughts fit in a neat little box of anger that can be stored away in for eternity. But that wasn't the case at all. Life doesn't always fit in a neat little box.
Dad was not depressed. Throughout his entire life I cannot recall a moment he felt sorry for himself. He was a hard worker. I can remember times in his life when he had been laid off or the company he was working for had shut down. He never sat around collecting unemployment. He always found work and provided for us. Dad was not selfish. He loved his family and his friends very much and did what he could when we were in need.
But he was a coward. He was afraid of being a burden. He was afraid of his troubles effecting the lives of my brother and me. He was afraid. He had been strong his entire life and never learned how to be weak. He was afraid of becoming something else. He loved us so much and he knew that we loved him. He knew we'd be there for him no matter what. That's what he was afraid of.
It doesn't make it right. It doesn't make it okay. My dad was a very intelligent man, but this time he was wrong. I don't agree with him and I don't condone his actions.
As hard as this is to say: I understand. Not with my own mind, but knowing his. He was acting out of love for us and did what he believed was best for his family and his friends. He made his wishes clear and took comfort in knowing that PJ and I had wonderful lives.
I thank The Lord for giving me a dad that I will miss so much.
