Reader Question: My dad killed himself in the room next to me...

I’m struggling and my friends at church are not helping.

Dear Ken,

Six months ago, my dad had open heart surgery. During his recovery, my siblings and I each spent a week with him to support him. On Sunday morning, at the end of my week, I was lying lazily in my bed thinking that I ought to hit the road soon. Then a gun went off and I ran into my father’s room. He was lying on the floor with a gun in his hand.

I cannot get that image out of my head. I'm haunted by it; I’ve had vivid nightmares about it; once I even felt like something touching me in the night—it actually touched me. 

My friends at church haven’t helped much. They keep telling me, "God can redeem any situation and good can come from it." What does that even mean? It feels patronizing to me, like a useless pat on the back.

How do I work past this?

Dear Haunted,

First of all, I’m so sorry this happened to you. No son should ever witness his dad lying there like that.

And I’m sorry that your church friends tried to band-aid it with platitudes.

And I’m sorry that your dad got so desperate that he resorted to this.

You were there, you saw this with your own eyes, and that just sucks. It sucks! Period…no more words…end of thought.

No son should ever witness this. Of course it haunts you. It should. And it may linger for a long time. Maybe forever. Like all trauma you’re going to have to kick and scratch and claw your way through it and on top of it and around it.

So don’t fight reality. Let what happened sink in. Absorb it. Let it circulate in your system and linger in your bloodstream until your body is good and ready to process it. You don’t know how long that will be. You don’t know how the psychological liver and kidneys work. They are hidden little buggers, and they work however they want to work.

Sure, you can do some things to speed this through your system, things like journaling or talking to your wife or seeing a therapist or grabbing a beer with a friend or taking long walks or getting way back in the mountains or just good old fishing. But it’s up to the gods, my haunted brother, when this thing is processed within you.

And I use ‘gods’ on purpose. Because the mindswarm of trauma is downright mysterious. It’s foreign, like from a different planet, like that thing that touched you in the night—are you kidding me? That’ll freak a man out. That’ll make you wonder if you’re losing your mind. This kind of grief and these emotions are elusive devils, mysterious demons, and pesky as hell. They feel like things of the gods.

So you, my brother, do the work that you can do. Control what you can control. Don’t start the timer—grief never yields to time. In fact, impatience will often slow the process. Journal for hours and talk until even you are bored and walk until your legs go numb and read C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed and listen to music that moves your soul, and finally, ask and seek and knock. If you ASK, it will come. Some form of healing will show up one day, perhaps when you least expect it.

And about those folks at church who spout a scripture to you when you share a struggle, or sling a platitude your way when you look a little off—give them grace. Every single person on the planet struggles with what to say to someone in pain. These people are probably well-intentioned.

But also know that many religious people think they’ve got it all figured out. They believe that God is pulling all the strings in this life and somehow, he will “redeem” a tragedy for “good.” They seem to forget the mayhem that comes with free will. They cite the verse, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him…”, assuming that “all things work for good” includes things in this life and not the hereafter. I don’t agree with that interpretation. Sometimes things in this life are not ‘redeemed’ as they say. Sometimes things just suck. They are unfair and sad and mysterious. How a kind God could create such an unkind world is a subject for a different time.

Your dad…he exercised his free will to end his life. But maybe, if you can, and if you are willing, put yourself in his shoes. Maybe he just got lost; maybe he saw no dignified end…I don’t know.

But you have free will too. You are free to process this as you need to. You are free to mourn. You are free to be stuck for a while. You are free to be stuck for life. You are free to be angry and pissed and resentful and bitter. You are free to wake up one day and not be stuck. You are free to even empathize with your dad and understand why he did what he did. And you are free to have that thought, even if for a brief moment, even if it is forbidden, even if you won’t admit it to yourself, that you might have done the same thing if you were in his shoes.

You are also free to help others in their trauma. You are free to use this experience to help you become a better dad.

You, my haunted brother, are free. Now you go use that freedom

.