My dad took his life and I found him

My name is Christiane and I am 20 years old. This is my story.

My mom and dad had been fighting badly the past few years. They had been married 19 years but were together for 22 years. We lived in Florida as the only blood family around. All our family lived in California. My dad would get angry with my mom and fly her there when he thought he was done with her. This was about the third or fourth time it happened and during this last time my mom was in California, my dad took his own life.

On April 11, 2013 I came home after a long day of running errands. I lived up the street from my dad and brother, my mom in California at the time. They both came over that same night and my dad made my brother, my boyfriend, and I dinner. When it was time to eat everyone sat down to eat but me. I joined them half way through.

My dad cleaned up and was being very quiet. I knew he had been depressed. He talked to me about it everyday. He would even come over and just cry because he loved and missed my mom so much but he believed she had become someone else.

Once he cleaned up he tried to walk out the back door without us all noticing and I saw him. I asked him if he was leaving and he said yeah. I believe I said, “Ok, I love you.” With a few more words involved. I knew he wasn’t ok but I just didn’t think too much of it. That would be the last time I saw my dad alive.

They next day I was at work and my phone had gone dead. My dad was supposed to pick me up at 2pm and I had tried calling him from my works’ phone. Finally my brother answered. I told him what time I needed to be picked up and he just said ok.

At 2pm my brother showed up to get me. He’s currently 17 years old. He looked at me worried and said he had some bad news. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he didn’t know where dad was. I didn’t think it at first but it was in the back of my mind. My brother told me there was a note saying he was sorry and pillows under his blankets in his bed. (The pillows were so if anyone tried to check on him the night before they would think he was asleep in bed and wouldn’t check)

It was almost an hour long drive to get home from my work and the whole time felt agonizingly slow. I kept trying to think where would he have gone without the car. I was praying so much of the drive that he was okay. I was so worried I wouldn’t find him alive. My brother wasn’t thinking about my dad already being dead, and just kept talking to me about where he would have gone to with only $135 in his pocket. We pulled up to my dads door shop which doubled as an apartment for my dad and brother. Behind the shop was 7 acres of land, half of it covered with trees.

When we pulled up to the shop I felt anxious and sick. I immediately looked at the note my brother found and saw the pillows in his bed. I looked around the shop a little more, all the while scared I’d turn a corner and he’d be dead. Finally I looked at the back door to the acres behind the house. I didn’t want to go out there, but I knew I had no choice somehow. There were a lot of trees and you couldn’t see far into it.

I stood staring for a moment before I stood up straight and walked forward. I could see something white out there a ways. I kept walking and as I got closer I could see more than just something white. I knew when I saw something white out there, he was out there.

For those of you who can’t handle graphic descriptions I’m just letting you know now.

I got close enough to see him sitting cross legged under a tree with his head down. His body was being held up because he had his hands to his face (I believe he was praying because despite the fact he committed a sin most call the unforgivable sin, he was a VERY Christian man) so his head was downward but off the ground about a foot and a half. I never saw his face. There was no gun shot, not rope or cord, just him. I knew he’d taken pills at that moment. I remember thinking “dad no…” With a feeling of being too late to help him. He was a light blue color across his shoulders, he had no shirt on, and when I got close enough I saw flies jump off him. I knew he was dead right away as it was obvious it had been a while.

I turned and ran at that point. I remember everything I saw even though it was just for a second because as soon as I saw him when I walked out there I took off running the other way. I didn’t call for my brother at first because I didn’t want him to run outside and risk him seeing.

I screamed for my brother once I reached the door, trying to think of how to tell him. My split second and panicked thinking made me decide I didn’t want to sit him down and tell him slowly. I just said it. “Dads dead!” I didn’t want him to think there was any chance he wasn’t and get his hopes up in any way just to tear them down. I knew it wasn’t the right way to tell him, but I was just too shaken to make a rational decision.

My brother broke down screaming and crying. I still hadn’t cried or truly freaked out other than feeling very shaken and hot. I kept telling myself I couldn’t break right now because my brother needed me. I paced around a lot and was having a hard time trying to think of what to do next.

I made my brother stay in the same room as me and I finally realized I needed to call the police. I dialed 911 and when they answered I choked. I managed to tell them my dad committed suicide and he was dead. I had hard time figuring out our address and once I did they asked me a series of questions. They asked if he could be resuscitated and I said I didn’t think so.

Once I got off the phone with the cops I felt like I needed to go back out there.

I looked at my brother who couldn’t stop bawling and told him to stay right there and not move or follow me. I then headed back out to where my dad was.

This was the hardest walk of my life. I had to go out there and make complete sure there was nothing I could do and that he was truly dead. I approached him and he was sitting on a blanket I didn’t notice before. I put two fingers on his left shoulder to feel if he was cold. He wasn’t cold, but he was stiff. The hot day had kept his skin warm. His skin looked fake and was turning blue. His hair didn’t look alive and dark but grey and dead as well. I didn’t look at his body for more than 1-2 seconds before I looked away and at his surroundings instead. On the ground in front of him was his cigarettes, my mom’s pink lighter, and a little flashlight. Against the tree to his left was a bottle of peppermint schnapps that wasn’t even finished. There was an eighth of a large bottle left. My dad sat between two trees and up against one tree was a picture frame 20×20 of Jesus looking over Jeruselem. Against the other tree was a white sign 12×12 that read, “ru in the book of life”. That white sign is what I had been able to see when I first went out there.

I grabbed his cigarettes, lighter, and flash light and went back to the shop. I don’t know why I grabbed those things, I think I was scared I wouldn’t get to have something of him. I really don’t know why I did. I wasn’t there with him for more than a minute before I went back to my brother and he just wasn’t okay. I wanted so badly to sit and comfort him but he just screamed at me whenever I tried to tell him it would be okay. He would yell, “It’s not okay! Dad’s f***ing dead!” The medics arrived and I walked them to the path to where he was and pointed them in his direction. I told them I wasn’t going any further, I didn’t think I could handle seeing him again.

I needed to get a hold of my mom, and that was so hard. She was at work and her phone was off. I emailed her to call me immediately and she said she’d go pay her phone bill and call me. I still hadn’t told her. I was trying to get a hold of someone in her family to make sure she wouldn’t be alone when I told her and finally got through to my aunt, her sister through her work in a bank. At the same moment I was telling my aunt what happened, my mom walked into her bank to get money for her phone bill. My aunt told my mom I was on the phone and that it was about Rick (my dad) She said he wasn’t ok. I can’t remember much of the conversation, but I remember her thinking it was a sick joke at first and I screamed at her saying, “No Mom! He’s dead! Can you hear the medics truck?!” She didn’t think it was a joke for more than a second and then she got quiet. She handed the phone back over to my aunt and I don’t remember anything on the phone from there.
A few officers arrived as well and my brother and I had answered so many questions so many times. They finally let us leave to my house which was just up the street and said they’d call when they needed me to come back down. When we drove off we would pass by the woods and while I was pretty sure you couldn’t see anything from the street I looked at my brother and said, “Look at me right now and do not look away.” He did and I was so relieved he wasn’t going to try and look.

They were there for two hours before they finally removed his body. They had caution tape out in the woods from what I could see. They called me and I drove over to answer a few more questions. They gave me a brown paper bag with the things my dad had in his pockets. His wallet, necklace (which he was wearing) his money and loose change, and another lighter that was red.

I went home and just sat and stared. I cried off and on. I didn’t know what to think. I was so very close with my dad and I felt, not like it was my fault, but that I wished I could have talked to him first. I even started thinking I wish I could have sat with him while he died. I made dozens of calls to family members. Heard many people cry and give their best to us, while others were too shocked to speak.

The verdict for my dad was that he had gone out to the woods the night before, the blankets a decoy in case my brother wanted to check on him. The cops found my dad’s bag of medications, as he was on a lot of things for health, and a bottle of muscle relaxers that had just been filled with approximately 40-60 pills was empty. Time of death was guessed to be after midnight making his date of death April 12, 2013. It bothers me that on April 11 he did it, and on April 12 he passed away. For me I have two days to mourn (or as my dad used to say) or celebrate his passing.
My mom flew out shortly to help take care of things. We had him cremated and before we did, we had a chance to see him. At first I didn’t want to see him because I wanted my last sight of him when I found him to be the last. Despite the sad and sick way I found him he looked peaceful. There was no blood or anything horrifying on that level, and I think that’s why I’m not too haunted by the image.

I am not mad at my father. I battle depression and have attempted myself though I never will again. I don’t by any means whatsoever think what my dad did was the right thing, but I understand the pain you feel when you don’t know what to do or where to go. Please don’t comment on this in regards to my attempt or my depression. I really want the focus on this story.

I have dealt with this very strongly as my dad once told me do not cry over him when he dies one day. Some people say I should just let it go and cry, but honestly I find comfort in thinking I can be strong for him. I’m not holding it in by any means, it’s no battle not to cry, it’s as if I was given the strength to stay strong. Some days I do cry, but it’s only for a moment and I usually end up chuckling to myself, look up and think, “Really dad? I miss you.” Because I can just hear him telling me to suck it up and keep on going. That it’s all something to learn from.

I believe my dad was bipolar. I’m truly not sure. He had many health problems and his body was beginning to shut down from working his whole life in hard labor.

I miss him everyday and I try to base my days off making him proud if it’s possible he is watching me.
Today is May 22, 2013. My name is Christiane Long and I lost my dad, Richard Harold Long on April 12, 2013 when he took his own life.