Arrangements were made for my father to be buried in Turlock, CA the following week. As the plane hit the ground in Sacramento I let out a sigh of relief. It felt good to be away from Arizona and everything that was left behind. My mother, sister, and I stayed in a hotel in downtown Modesto. It felt strange to be just the three of us. The time spent in California was to be the start of my grieving. I sunk into a deep depression. I felt sadness consume me like I had never felt before.
The day of the burial wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. The casket was closed by the time we arrived and it was a beautiful day and the grounds were lovely. Many people came to pay their respects which once again, surprised me. My dads cousins, Phil and Stephanie King sang "I can Only Imagine" before my Uncle Charles spoke. It is a song that will always remain close to my heart. As I watched them lower my father into the ground I felt numb. I cried only a little that day. I think deep inside, my mother, sister, brother, and I were relieved it was all over and we could now begin the process of moving on with our lives.
My mother had already made the decision to move back to Modesto with my sister and were staying a little longer in CA than I was. As I packed my suitcase and got ready to head to the airport, I sat on the edge of the bed in the hotel room staring out the window. I was going home to a place I never wanted to be again. A place that held the worst memory of my life. How was I going to do this by myself? I felt nauseous. I had a fantastic job and the love of my life waiting for me. But every fiber of my being wanted to stay right where I was, grasping tightly to my mothers hand.
As I boarded the plane I swallowed the knot in my throat and tried to hold back the tears filling my eyes...despite my efforts, they came pouring as the plane took off.
The next several weeks seemed like hell on earth. I went back to work at the bank and I felt so insecure. I was the girl whose dad killed himself. No one knew what to say to me, so they said nothing. I didn't know how I felt about this. A part of me was glad no one addressed the issue, but the sad girl inside of me wanted someone to ask if I was ok. But no one did, and I guess it was better that way. I went on about my life the best I could, but it wasn't easy. Everyday was a struggle and I wrestled with questions constantly running though my mind every minute of the day.
When my mom and sister flew back into town I picked them up from the airport. Mom started packing while back in Modesto the family looked for a house for mom to buy. They found one and just like that she bought it. My birthday came and went as I really didn't feel like celebrating. August will always be a bitter sweet month for me. Then, on September 11, just 36 days after my dad died, my mom and sister moved to California.
I went to the house as they were loading up the car. My Nana was driving them back to Modesto because my mother was in no condition to drive the trip by herself as it was about an 11 hour drive. They packed the car as full as they could and left the whole house boxed up and ready for the movers. I hugged my mom tight not wanting to let her go. I was happy for them because I knew this is the only way they would survive and God had them in the palm of his hands. But as the car turned the corner and was gone from my view, I felt true loneliness for the first time in my life. I turned around and faced the house. As I stood in the driveway I tried to imagine what life was like before this happened. I let my mind wonder as I relived moments spent there, both good and bad. This was the defining moment of my life. The moment everything changed. My whole entire world would be different now. Who I was before this day was no longer the person that was standing on the pavement with the hot September sun beating down on my back. I was alone. I wasn't a child anymore. Barely 19 I was thrust into the reality that I had to grow up, and fast.
I took a deep breath and got in my car. I didn't know where to go or who to call. So I sat there in my car outside the house that I used to call home where my father killed himself.
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