“We have plenty of time!” happens to be my catch phrase as my wife and I have a barking match between our daughter. Regarding our daughter. Of course! There’s more than enough time, at least that’s what I thought. Was there ever any remaining time, or was reality something that was constantly being repelled by my desire? Heh. Well hearing that your daughter is diagnosed with schizophrenia isn't exactly music to my ears. Well, not the mellow music I'm used to.
Fire is all that’s being seen. Filled with rage, fury, and guilt. All the damage that has been built. Built, onto my wife. Built inside of my head! Is it possible that my sweet little innocent Amanda, was killed by the man who was supposed to protect her from this horror movie considered life? Life. What is “life”, without my daughter around? We're living in two different worlds as my temptation to be with my dead daughter and my wife who is very much alive, eats at me. Starting to care less and bleed more as these wounds fail to even — heal! What's real? Because everything seems surreal, except that playback of Amanda being laid to rest in her casket. Tears, from her lovers in the background of a packed funeral. That sound made me feel like the main character of a scary movie.
Sound. The sound of her red beach shovel gets me everytime. I always hear it. From the "morning cup of coffee" that's been left out all night watching TV, to the failed 20 minute jog my wife nags me to do, finally to all the way — throughout my day. The color red, it was her favorite. I saved it, to put along with the rest of her things in the abandoned shed behind the house. The removal of her belongings was “mandatory”, according to one of my therapists. Welp, she never said where it had to be put! Why'd I have to put it anywhere? Jesus please, steer the wheel as I'm spiraling out of control.
Other than "daddy" or "papa", the only names I hear are "Neil, wake your ass up and go to work!" Yeah, that's my wife! She hates me to death. But you know what, I'm proud of her for doing the right thing. Credit is all she deserves as I would've left myself, in her shoes. The only thing that would fit to complete this puzzle to let myself out of a dark maze would be the presence of my daughter. Unfortunately, that will never happen as her mental health has gotten the best (worst) of her. So that's when the bullet got the best of her life, and ended it.
There was a mix of things going on in my life while trying to blend all of them. I should've sent all the care to my daughter. For my daughter. She should've been my priority, but my mental health got the best (worst) of me while being overwhelmed was a frequent activity. Going to gym mentally, while trying to keep up with the pace of obstacles in my life and managing the strength to carry myself. Ugh, I'm starving for the better version of me while being fed up.
At work, it had me beyond exhausted as my boss did the right thing by letting me go. However, my wife doesn't know. She will not know that I'm unemployed. But I want to know where my daughter got the gun from to deliver one blow to her head.
Oops! Silly me! I know where. She got it from me, as my irresponsible ass forgot to lock the safe. Why tell my family we're gonna be safe by getting one? A child murderer, a drunk, and a liar? "Class where do you see yourselves 20 years from now?" as my randomly remembered English teacher asked us. This was not the answer on my multiple choice test!
I've failed………...it's true! How dare I call myself a "provider". I've served nothing but disasters. Call me a master at that. My fingers could make wool wrinkle at the first touch. Do you feel my pain?
Amanda, oh my! You were going through so much of that yourself. Your mother wanted to help you as your horrible illness showed. But it was me, who didn't want you to go through the same thing your father went through himself. Yes, schizophrenia is hereditary. The road I've been through dealing with my own mental health issues growing up, was not the path you needed to be on. The word dealing is too much of a compliment. Surviving is the word! A raven was on my shoulder acting as an anchor.
So what did I do to "help" you Amanda? I drink! Consuming more liquor than anybody in my family ever has. You were ill and became worse — and I'm sorry! It's really too late. Daddy still misses those playdates we had. I never grew up with much humor or love, this was the closest I've ever tasted. Wasted. Another spot on earth wasted as my life is pointless.
A major lesson. One vital one, to help me never ignore something life threatening. But I'm curious to know one thing. I need to know. There's no right or wrong answer, so please take your time. Do you forgive me — can you?
Can you forgive me, for not giving you all of my attention? Will you forgive me, for wanting to get lost in the alcohol instead of finding something to do more frequently as a family. Your mother and I are still married just to avoid another refresh. We're a family, just broken! You! You were our token.
I'm sorry I didn't appreciate your value. Sorry, it is not enough as I'm out of touch with reality. Even on the coldest winter day, I'm red, hot, and steaming with rage as we miss you. Now I've missed moments we were supposed to have. Moments we should've had.
I'll join you! Join you, to show how much I'm sorry. I hope to hear your answer. Do you forgive me for taking your life? Do you forgive me, for taking a knife……..to end my mine. Do you understand why your dad needed to escape this "so-called" life to create a new one, even if that means leaving my wife? The blood has been dripping for over 10 minutes. Now, this is a reunion that is desperately needed. Any……..second……….now!