A letter to the parent I lost to suicide

"Hey, Dad."

That's how all of our conversations start. At least now. It's been almost 4 months since you decided to take your own life, but it still feels like yesterday. I can still hear your laugh and tell me you love me. You'd call me a twirp and I'd call you an even larger twirp. Sometimes it even feels like it was all a mistake and you're still here.

But you're not. It wasn't a mistake. I'm not just going to wake up one day and see a missed call from you, or a text telling me to call you. January 5th was the date. All I heard was mom talking on the phone at 3 in the morning and me being curious started walking down the stairs to ask who she was talking to at such a ridiculous time. 4 stairs from the bottom, she said "Devin.. Your dad is dead." My head got fuzzy and my ears started to ring and I hit the stairs. I felt my chest crack and with your life you took everything I had to give. My heart, my feelings, everything. I want to be angry with you, but I can't. You were my person and I was yours. You were my best friend, the one I'd call if I was in trouble, my rock, and most importantly, my father.

Nothing will ever replace you, or the void and confusion you've left me with. But one thing that you didn't take was my love for you. I'm still daddy's little girl who has a mean right swing. I just hope I'm becoming the woman you always thought I'd be. I hope I'm making you proud, wherever you are.

Sleep tight, sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight.

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