The End of My Father

even though the sun is finally shining, i'm having a terrible day. last night i was watching a television program (without a trace) when they unexpectedly started talking about one of the characters' mother who committed suicide. sometimes it's too difficult for me to hear, even when i know suicide is going to be discussed. the character felt responsible for his mom's death because he had concealed an earlier attempt from his father. i've been watching a trial on courttv live in which a battered woman is being tried for the hatchet death of her husband. i just listened to lenore walker testifying about battered women and their children who grow up in violent homes. very triggering.my own father's death has been on my mind recently. he'd been actively psychotic for some time prior to his death. he saw several different psychiatrists before his death, but they were not medicating him sufficiently. just before he died, he was only taking paxil, which is completely ineffective for psychosis. my mom said that shortly before his death, she had found him standing on the front porch with a butcher knife in his hand. she asked him what he was doing and he said he wasn't doing anything. he came inside and laid the knife on the corner of the kitchen counter. the day he died, she had gotten a phone call from her sister and was trying to get her off the phone without being rude. she heard my dad in the living room making animal noises. this is a detail which haunts me still. by the time she got off the phone, he was gone. he went to a neighbor's house and asked for some bullets because my mom had hidden the bullets which were in their house. he still had the gun. he told the neighbor that he wanted some bullets to kill some cats with. they gave him some. he walked out of their house, opened the passenger door and blew himself away. my mom got off the phone, noticed he was gone and went to look for him. she saw his truck parked at the neighbor's house. by the time she got there, he was already gone. she said he was still warm when she got there. the neighbor who gave him the bullets came out and asked if he should call 911. my mom stayed with my dad.when the police got there, they actually performed a gun powder residue test on her hands. that was the end of my father, the beginning of five years of living in hell for me. maybe more later. this is very hard to talk about. i need to try to calm myself down.