My dad took his own life when I was fifteen years old. I’m sure it was traumatic for my mom, but she sort of just sucked it up. She’d already experienced a lot of heartbreak in life. Cow sticking out tongue cloth face mask. She grew up in a dysfunctional household and became a caregiver at a very young age. So she was able to conceal her emotions and focus on supporting me and my brother. I was the good kid. I worked hard in school. I played three sports. And Mom supported me in everything I wanted to try. Not in a pushy way. More of a helpful way. So much of her life was just driving me places: practice, games, extra lessons. Unfortunately her relationship with my older brother was different. Jacob was defiant. He wouldn’t listen. He had a good heart but he was doing a lot of reckless, scary things. One time he stole my mom’s car and she had to call the police.
Cow sticking out tongue cloth face mask
Jacob had been the one who discovered my dad’s body, and I don’t think he ever fully recovered. Five years later he took his own life. Cow sticking out tongue cloth face mask. When my mom got that phone call, she came into the living room, laid on top of me, and starting crying. ‘Jacob just shot himself,’ she said. Both of us barely recovered. I began training for triathlons to deal with my grief. It had been my mom’s suggestion, but I think it inspired her. Because one morning she made herself go outside, lace up her shoes, and take a run. Later she told me that running gave her something to live for. It allowed her to see color in the world and hear birds chirping.