who, what, where, when and WHY?

Who, what, where, when and why?  The five W's.  Once answered, they fully describe any situation.  But that last question, the why, that's the one that gives me fits.  The one question about Tyler's death that makes my brain feel like a twisted and knotted ball of yarn that can't be untied. 

After Tyler died it was clear what he had done.  The timeline was easy to establish after talking to the friends who bailed him out of jail that night and by examining his phone. We knew where he was and we knew what he had done.  We kind of had an idea of why. 

We were fortunate that he left a note - we found out later that only about half of those who end their life do.  It was a beautiful note.  He spoke individually to all of those who meant the most to him.  He explained that no matter how hard he tried he felt that he always failed.  He just had no idea what a success as a caring, loving human he was.  He had no appreciation for the numerous lives he had touched (some without even knowing).  Or perhaps he did.  It's difficult to really know the thoughts he had.  I believe that Tyler loved his friends and family so much that he really thought his self perceived failures meant that we would be better off without him. He could not have been more wrong.  He closed his note by saying that he was crying as he wrote and he said :"I will be with you always".  I am crying as I write this because it still breaks my heart to imagine him penning those last words with tears in his eyes,  It's an image that will always haunt me. 

That night in the hospital I read the note and I wrestled with those initial why's,  And even with his note it made no sense.  Tyler loved life so much and I just couldn't comprehend why he would have ended his life.  But as the first hours and days passed and the initial shock eased, I could start to understand why he did what he did.  I certainly didn't agree with it, but I could sort of understand it. 

But that why question, is one that won't go away.  It operates in my brain on so many levels.  Why did I take Tyler's dog to see him that weekend.  Perhaps if I hadn't Tyler wouldn't have felt compelled to drive home that night, would have stayed at a friends, and wouldn't have been arrested that night.  Why was I so compelled to spend time with my official buddies that night so that I didn't spend that last night with Tyler.  If I had, I would have seen him the next morning.  Why didn't I go check on Tyler that day at lunch?  And so on, with so many questions about why things that night couldn't have been just a little different.  All it would have taken was for him to perhaps leave 5 minutes sooner or later to avoid being pulled over by that policeman.

Then once you wrestle with those immediate term why's you start to step back and ask the bigger why's.  Why didn't Tyler call me that night to get bailed out?  I was in town, I could have been there in 10 minutes.  Why didn't he feel loved enough by me to be able to come to me when he most needed help?  What kind of father am I, that my son calls college buddies instead of me?  And then doesn't call me that day when he needed me the most.

And those why's just don't stop.  Why did I push him to go to Texas A&M?  Why didn't I take his celiac and anxiety issues more seriously?  Why didn't I set a better example for him?  Why wasn't I more of a father to Tyler and less of a friend.  Why wasn't I a better Christian example for him?  Why did I push him into sports so hard?  Why didn't I stress academics more to Tyler.  Why didn't I love him just the way he was?  Why was I always trying to mold him and change him?  Why didn't I tell him that no matter what happened, he was always loved by me and nothing would ever change that?  Why didn't I appreciate him more and make sure he knew?  Why wasn't I a better father for him? 

And that's one of the real tragedies about the suicide of a loved one.  It sets you down a path of self doubt.  It makes you question everything you thought you knew, and I mean everything.  It makes me doubt things that, the day before Tyler died, I knew to be essential truths.  His suicide makes me question every decision I ever made and every action I ever took regarding Tyler.  And though there has almost been two years passed since his death, those doubts continue to dog me. 

I am not an addict, but I understand that most addicts never really lose the longing for whatever they are addicted to.  They learn to deal with those desires and take actions to avoid them.  I imagine my doubts will be much the same.  They won't ever go away.  Sometimes they will be worse, sometimes they will be better, but they always be there.