As usual, the only way to stop the thoughts is to put them on paper. I do not believe in an afterlife so it is odd that I should try to tell you things, but I can't stop thinking them and the thoughts are making it hard for me to go about my day.
If I had known you were going to take your life that day, I would have said:
There is nothing on this earth that can't get better. Try therapy, try meditation, try medication, try quitting a job, try trikking across country, I don't care. Just try anything to make it through the hardest time. Suicide is such a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
I love you immensely. Dad loves you immensely. Drew and Heather. Your kids. So many people. Can that be enough? It has to be enough.
I'm driving over there. I will slap you, hug you, get you drunk, take you to the hospital, bitch at you, tell you beautiful stories, cook for you, trikke with you, ANYTHING to make you not do this.
You are an imperfect human being. We all are. We have made so many mistakes. Those mistakes do not define us.
You are good enough. I would not say it if I didn't mean it.
I'm not above guilting you. You will devastate this family. Trent will not understand, and he will wonder about his Uncle Chad.
Now that you are gone, I have these thoughts:
I have enough education to understand self-determination, hopelessness, and mental illness. All the education in the world doesn't make this easier, and in fact, it might be impeding me because I analyze every thought and feeling.
I've been hopeless at different times myself, but when the act is complete, it leaves a trail of destruction behind you. I'm not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but you have left this mess behind. And I'm angry with you. So angry.
I shouldn't feel guilty and I know that. But I do.
I interviewed for an amazing fellowship a few days ago. I didn't get it. I blame you because my heart and mind is elsewhere, and looking back, I probably blew the interview.
My career has stalled because of this. That makes me feel even guiltier, as if it is all about me, but that is how I feel.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE" was your and his joke. I will probably never hear it again. I'm not sure I want to.
If you had seen the amazing people that came to your say goodbye at your funeral. You were loved.
There were things I believed about you that weren't true.
Trent didn't like most of Universal, but I keep wanting to tell you about the parts he did like. I keep waiting for you to comment with a Jesus meme or corny comment. I wait and wait.
I can't follow one of your directives. I'm trying and I'm sorry, but I can't right now.
Hasn't this family suffered enough?