What a Day - Clare, 8.25 am
I woke up early, about 5.30 am, but I usually don’t get up until 6 am on Mondays. I had a snap chat message from my sister (Nicole), she and mum are in Brisbane at the moment, and it read check messenger; Mum sent a message. We’ve not heard from Dad. He hasn’t opened any of our snaps since 8 am yesterday. Bit worrying. So I got up, went on my computer and read the message, got dressed and ready for the gym and work and drove to Mum and Dad’s. It is now 6 am.
I let myself in and go to the bedroom, and Dad’s bed is empty. I call around the house, and then I call mum and say he’s not here; now what? I search the house, all the bedrooms, outside, under the house, and the garage; I think the absolute worst.
Dad has suffered from depression for several years now, I can’t remember when it started, but the most recent occurrence lasted a few years, and over the last couple of months, it seemed that Dad had turned a corner and was engaging in life again. This contributed to my thinking of the worst. I know that people who suicide can appear happy before their death because they have decided to end their life and feel content. All 3 of us thought the worst. Mum was the one who suggested checking the garage.
I’m hysterical, asking mum who I should call next to find out where he is. The car is there, so if he has gone anywhere, he either went on foot or got a lift. I ask her to get Nicole to call Andrew while I’m still on the phone with mum, and mum replies what for? I said, I need support; nobody else is here. We brainstormed where he might be and who might know, the next-door neighbour’s names came up, and Mum said, oh, we can’t call them before 10 before they are asleep. I said this is a fucking emergency, Dad is missing, and we can call people whenever we need to! While I’m speaking to Andrew on the phone (probably woke him up!) Mum has phoned her brother, and we contacted another friend who might know his whereabouts with no success.
I call mum back and ask her to log into internet banking and see if Dad has been anywhere. She replies I don’t know how to use internet banking. Mum eventually suggests going on the computer and seeing if Dad’s emails are open, so I go on, have a look and find an accommodation booking in Fiji from the 1st to the 4th of April. Dad’s gone to Fiji; the reservation is under his name. After more investigations, I find an email from someone requesting Dad bring some household items when he comes to Fiji, and finally, the flight reservation emails in his trash. I am relieved that he is safe. I contacted a friend of Dad’s who had previously contacted me out of concern for him as he had withdrawn from his friends. I mentioned the name of the person who emailed Dad, and she confirmed that he is a friend and a good guy. (We have to come up with our own stories here, and because Dad has gone to Fiji without telling us, we wonder if he is in trouble with some not-very-nice people).
I’m feeling relief, anger and confusion. Relief that Dad is okay, anger because “how could he do this” and confusion. Why did he not feel he could tell his family he was visiting a friend in Fiji?
I’d missed my opportunity to go to the gym as I now didn’t have enough time before starting work (I did squeeze it in at lunch). Andrew drove over to Mum and Dad’s to check in on me and provide comfort, and we both looked through Dad’s emails to see if we could find any more information.
I’ve sent my Dad a message that says:
“Hi, Dad. I'm glad you're safe and can see from the flight bookings I found in your trash that you will be home tomorrow night, so I will talk to you when you return. Love, Clare”
At 9.15 pm, that message was still unread, but his friend, whom I had been liaising with, told me the friend he was visiting said he had no data. According to his itinerary, he arrives back in Canberra tomorrow night.
I have asked the rest of my family not to contact him or send him abusive messages about the worry he caused and the lies he told, and I said I would speak to him when he got back. Apart from his well-being, my main concern is finding out why he felt he couldn’t tell his family. Hiding things means that Dad feels unsafe, judgement or shame.
Things I would like to highlight from this experience:
Mum tried to call Dad on Whatsapp and messenger. Why was the default not calling his mobile phone number? This often happens when we rely on internet-based messaging services to connect with people. Which is fine when it’s nonurgent, but my first question to my mother was, why didn’t you ring me? And why did you wait till 9.30 pm to say anything at all? I called Dad’s number, but it didn’t connect to ring, so I assumed that maybe wherever he was, his phone was flat. I also tried to call the phone number of the hotel he had booked, but I kept getting this number disconnected too.
Do people need to be missing for 24 hours before they can report to the police? If you don’t know where they are or where they could be and are concerned that they may have harmed themselves? (Dad lying dead in a ditch somewhere definitely crossed my mind)
Telling someone to calm down and not think the worst is very unhelpful. I’m also wondering how many neighbours saw me pacing up and down the street because I didn’t know what else to do.
I want to get the message out there for people to talk to those who love you. It doesn’t matter what it is. Love is unconditional.
Safe Spaces. We need the safety to be who we are, speak our truths and book a weekend trip to Fiji without fear of judgement or negative reactions.
Judgement is a killer of confidence, safety and life. If we want to decrease suicide rates, even eradicate them, we must judge less and show more compassion.
This is not a blog I planned to write this week, but I feel it’s important to share my experience to raise awareness of the importance of safety in all our relationships.
The rest of my Monday was full of wholesome conversations with my patients and work colleagues.
Last night I emailed my patient list, notifying them that I would not return to clinical practice when I return from Europe with the rowing team. I shed tears when I pressed send, and there will probably be many occasions that I cry over the next 2 months. Words cannot express how much I miss them, but I know that it is the right decision for me.
Now for a hot shower and a goodnight's sleep.
Thanks for reading, my substack following is small, but it is where I share my most intimate stories.
Wow indeed. Will never forget reading this and you did so well to remain calm in such a stressful situation. Hoping Dad returns soon safely.
Wow. Great call on telling people not to contact him having a dig at him. Good on you for remaining composed and being so caring when contacting him. You’re spot on. Ridiculing him for this is only going to make him withdraw further. I hope he’s ok and got what he needed out of this trip.