Normally I’d dissect my father’s letters and provide a translation or, at least, shed a little perspective. But my latest discovery in his journal does all the talking. My words merely clutter, worthless babble, considering the context and timing of a letter composed shortly before his life ended so tragically. By me writing additional words just for the sake of writing, I will only detract from the loneliness in his voice.
As I read the letter below, the irony dawned on me: Alcohol caused my father to lose everything; and when he lost everything, he felt like alcohol was his only friend.
You really suck the big one. I am so lonely. I would rather die than live like this. But I care too much about my daughter and son. I cry every day and night. I am not drinking, but I sure feel like it. It, at least, eases the pain of the loneliness.
I have no job, no money, no hope, no joy, no happiness, and no reason for living. My cable might be disconnected, which doesn’t sound so bad but it’s all the company I get. I have no food, but I don’t care; maybe I’ll die of starvation, if not from a broken heart. I wonder if I’m loved by anyone. Nobody trusts me.
I’m trying, really trying, but I’m getting tired of just trying. If anybody reads this, please don’t be alarmed. I refuse to give up. It will get better, won’t it? They always say that, but I wonder.
Please, if you are struggling with thoughts similar to my father’s, get the help you need. There is no shame in reaching out for a helping hand, an encouraging voice, a shoulder to cry on, a supportive crutch. We all have one chance at life; don’t cut it short or rob yourself of the true joy and blessing that it can be. Fight through the pain, one day at a time. Talk about your feelings with someone, anyone. And find it within yourself to be strong, brave, courageous.
Somewhere, somebody is thinking about you this very minute. Your life means something to someone, even if you don’t feel like it matters at all.