Losing My Dad // 2 Years Later
Tonight, around 6 o'clock will mark the two year anniversary of losing my dad. I was living on Keele Street in Toronto, spending the night at home, and throwing together a quick dinner. I was chopping up some spinach when I saw that an unknown number was calling my phone. Like most people with caller ID, I typically ignore calls like that. "If it's important enough," I told myself, "they'll leave a message."
It was important enough.
They left a message.
"Hi honey, it's your dad's friend Peter. Can you please give me a call me back." I imagine he had my phone number on hand for emergencies, and I had a sick feeling of what that might entail as I returned his call. He told me that my dad hadn't shown up to see him today, that he had passed away. He told me which precint to call, because they wouldn't release any information to him, only next of kin. I called the 55 Division and told them I was Heather Halliday, Scotty's daughter, and I needed to know what was going on. After fielding their requests to come to the station and identify myself, they finally started explaining what happened: they found my dad, and he had complications due to his diabetes, which caused his death.
Except my dad didn't have diabetes to my knowledge, and the other details they were mentioning didn't click. They were giving me detail about the wrong person.
For a minute I entertained the idea that this was a morbid case of mistaken identity, that they hadn't found my dad after all. I would get off the phone, call my dad, and realize that this alarm was for nothing. The officer I spoke to said they needed to get in touch with their detective and would call me back.
This entire time I was alone, nineteen years old, and hesitant to call anyone until the police called me back. They did, and apologized for their original mix up. They then began to explain my father's death, and unfortunately this time the details lined up. Months later I got a letter in the mail that laid out his toxicology report and attributed his early passing to an overdose involving a few different drugs, but mainly cocaine.
My dad was a funny, generous and unorthodox person. He was a young kid in the body of an aging, sick man. In the past, I never realized the severity of his drug struggles, but now I see just how much it had contributed to his homelessness and health troubles.
He spent a majority of his time at Toronto's Good Neighbours Club, an organization that provides homeless men in Toronto with creature comforts and a strong support system. They were incredibly quick to host a memorial service for my dad, despite the fact that attendance for events of this nature was estimated to be 5-7 people at most. The day of the memorial, the crowd was more than double what they were expecting and I found myself endlessly comforted by the kind things that all of my dad's friends had to say, the stories they told, and the songs that they sang.
(second from the right)
His second memorial took place at his favourite place in the world - the drop zone where he spent most his life skydiving. He was a member of the Canadian 4-way team Glowsticks and also loved BASE jumping. When a skydiver passes away, and are cremated, it is common to hold an "ash dive" for them to release their ashes mid-skydive. In September of 2013 that is exactly what we did, and I am grateful for the people who made it possible for me to do this jump. I am also thankful for the support of my family's loved ones who came to watch the jump and share more stories from the old school skydiving days.
For the last two years I haven't managed to put into words how I feel about losing my dad. I got my best advice when I asked Blake Anderson's wife Rachael about life after losing a parent. She recalled the best advice that she received after her mother passed away:
"It's ok to cry. Its ok to cry today. It's ok to cry once everyday for the rest of your life. Just as long as you don’t let it cripple you from making steps forward."
She continued, "Once I felt like there was no time limit that I had to meet to be 'done' with grieving it lifted a lot of the pressure off of me that I was putting on myself. Of course apply this in a few months - right now its fine to lay around and do nothing."
If you're feeling stuck in grief right now - I hope that you slowly transition to a place where the tragedies in your past inspire you to deeply appreciate and value the intangible treasures in life: your ambitions, your goals, the people in your life you care for and those who care about you.
