Trigger warning: This post discusses suicide and may be distressing for some readers.
I have to talk about this. I have to re-live it here and now to try and find some peace. I have to tell you because this isn’t some sad story you see on the news. This happens every day, in every day homes and real life families lose their loved ones to suicide.
Bloody, broken, disfigured, deliberate, deadly, petrifying, dark, soul shattering suicide. The stuff nightmares are made of. It happens, and it happened to my family.
My father was a dedicated Christian who believed suicide was an act of ‘sin’ that sent you straight to hell. We were the kids who were always in Sunday school, taking holy communion, sleeping under the seats at the Sunday night church service and being subjected to Hillsong’s CD on repeat on family road trips. That was us, we were that family.
My father was a motivational speaker. He wrote a book called The Key To Life which spoke about how we are put on this earth for a greater purpose.
His catch cry was ‘never, ever, ever give up’. Over his lifetime he sat and prayed with perhaps hundreds of people, most of them strangers and dedicated his life to saving the world, one lost soul at a time.
But he had another side, he lived a double life. He was dodgy in business and often conned people of their money and he had a temper. A temper so bad the boom of his voice would vibrate the walls of the house. As a child I remember being smack bang in the middle of fights and having to literally stand between my father and mother in fear his temper would get out of control and end badly.