He told me how much he missed me, how much he wished he could still be with me, and how much he wishes that I could be with him. He told me I could be with him.
His voice broke over the phone. He sounded destroyed. The closest thing I can compare it to is how he sounded when mom died, the pain in his voice as he watched her writhe away in her hospital bed.
Even still, during this call, he seemed to be even more distraught than then, more urgent and beckoning. I swore it felt as though he needed me.
It was a bit of a shock. My dad was always the strongest man I knew. Our relationship had been built on respect and professionalism rather than memories and love. Therefore, when I felt the emotion in his voice as he begged me to visit him, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable rather than susceptible.
I listened intently as he instructed me what he needed me to do.
He wanted me to kill myself. He wanted me to go be with mom; he told me he’d be there with me, right by my side.
The tears were flowing harder now, and the air in my lungs turned to thorns as I tried to breathe through the heartache.
Annoyance grew in his voice. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. I couldn’t find the words to respond to him. I didn’t know what to say. I had to remain silent.
I could hear the crackle of fire growing louder and louder behind my father’s words, his desperate pleas morphing into screams and demands.
“KILL YOURSELF.”
“KILL YOURSELF.”
“DO IT.”
“DO IT NOW.”
I had broken into a full sob by this point. Snot ran down my face, and the lump in my throat made it nearly impossible to reply.
The only thing that I could think to do, the only thing I could think to whisper back into that cellphone, were words of agreement.
“I miss her too,” I cried. “I miss you both so much.”
“THEN DO IT. DO IT NOW. DO IT NOW.”
He wanted me to use a rope. Wanted me to go out the way he did. And why not? What else did I have? The two people I loved most in this world were gone. I was all that was left, the last one who needed to come home.
There were more voices now, as though a thousand screams were echoing through the phone. Yet, I could still make out my father’s voice as he demanded once more I reunite with him and my mother.
I climbed to the top of the step ladder, feeling the weight of my decision in every step. I thought about life as I slipped the rope around my neck, about the sun that would never again kiss my skin, about the bitter cold of December and the scorching heat of summer. I thought about every food I’d never taste, every word I’d never say.
But then I thought about mom. I missed her so fucking bad. I’d have done anything to see her again. Not to mention dad, the strongest man I knew. The man who had found a way to contact me and give me instructions on how to join them again.
With one final breath, I stepped off the ladder.
The line fell silent.
The crackling fire dwindled down.
And just as my father’s screams transformed into chaotic, dark laughter…
The sound of a dial tone interrupted him, and the rope snapped.
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