A tribute to my father

ABIGAIL JACOBSON

Just a girl who misses her dad

Warning: This article contains mentions of suicide, depression, overdosing, post-traumatic stress disorder and explicit language.

As you get older, there are events that change your life. Whether for better or for worse, it happens. 

Some say this is the beauty of life and if you had asked for my opinion a few years ago, I would have said that they are fucking wrong. That if that is the beauty of life, then I don’t fucking want to experience any events or any change.

Yes, life is beautiful, but to say the challenges you face are beautiful? What are you talking about? 

My reasoning behind this is that it is terrifying not knowing what could happen next. I don’t know what could happen tomorrow or in the next few months, and I can’t bear to think about it.

But, I’ve come to terms with it and have learned that life is so short and you need to live it like no other.

The real question you might be asking is: What are you talking about, Abby? Where is this coming from?

Well, I’ll be honest, I miss my dad. Jeffery Morgan Jacobson, you son of a gun. You big ‘ol softie, you weird fucking man, I miss you so goddamn much. 

My father was a big part of my life, as many would think their parent(s) would be. 

Of course, I have no favorites. I love both my mother and father equally, and no one or anything they did would or could change my mind.

Growing up as the youngest in my family, I always had people baby me. Of course, that’s understandable since I technically was the baby, although only by three minutes since my twin sister was born first. 

When I was born, I came out with the umbilical cord wrapped around my throat, and I wasn’t breathing. From what my parents have told me, I developed pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital a few extra days.

I like to think this is a reason why people baby me because of what happened when I was a newborn, and maybe it is. 

But I remember my father always telling me that he would stay every single night in the hospital with me and that I was his favorite out of the four other siblings I have. To my siblings, don’t be upset, I’m just better than you. 

I always believed it because we had a connection that my siblings never had. 

As I grew older, I became a very shy, introverted person. I never had many friends and I never tried to make many friends. I liked being by myself and doing what I wanted to do. 

My father was probably my best friend. To my twin sister, Sarah, you are and always will be my best BEST friend. My father and I were like peas in a pod. We did everything together. We would play video games together, whether it be 1 p.m. or 1 a.m. We would play poker or chess every night, where a majority of the time, he would let me win. 

Some other times included him knocking on my door at 2 a.m. on a school night. He would open the door, wake me up and say, “Hey, I made some nachos if you want any.” I’d turn over, look at him and go, “Yeah, I’ll be down in a second.” 

Other times, also at 2 a.m. on a school night, I would wake up to him on the edge of my bed, playing on my Xbox One. He would be playing Call of Duty and I would be like, “Dad, what the fuck are you doing in my room this late?” It was always, “I couldn’t sleep.”

I guess it was a bonding moment for us. Whether I couldn’t sleep or he couldn’t sleep, we would always be there for one another. These aren’t all of the memories I have of us, but these are the ones I cherish the most, especially because I still have trouble falling asleep. I really cherished those times and I never expected them to end so soon.

My father passed away on February 23, 2020, due to an accidental overdose. I was 16. I never mentioned this before, but my father had many medical issues, and he was usually in and out of hospitals most of my life. One of those was depression, which also played a part in his passing.

There is never a day that I don’t remember that day, and it was one of the worst days of my life. My father had lost his father, his grandfather, his uncle, his brother and his best friend. I could never see the signs of it, but the day before he passed, I did. 

The days before he passed were hard. We had found out some things that had happened, and it was very overwhelming. It became too much for my father that I had found him crying, and I remember comforting him and telling him everything would be alright. 

Later that night, I was half-asleep when he knocked on my door. I didn’t answer, and I remember him opening the door and saying, “I love you so much, Abby.” That was the last thing he ever said to me. 

The next morning was a blur, and to be honest, too traumatizing, so I would rather spare most of the details. Like I said above, my father had a lot of medical issues, and I think because of the combination of the recent emotions and the continuous pain he experienced throughout his life, he thought taking more medication would help.

Now, of course, it didn’t help at all and ended with him passing away on the dining room floor. It’s a scene I never wish upon anyone to see or to ever happen. It was truly a traumatic experience, and to see my father one last time like that, I don’t think I could ever recover from that. 

I won’t continue with any further details because you get the gist of it. It was lots of crying, lots of sadness and lots of anger. I never expected to have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), but what I experienced that day will forever make me terrified of waking up to something like that again.

I was angry that he left us, but mainly me. He was never going to see me in a prom dress, graduate from high school and then college, walk me down the aisle and so much more. It felt like it wasn’t fair, and it still feels like that.

What did my family do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this? I’m not one to accept pity, so to my dear readers, I am not expecting any. I am simply asking a very simple question: Why?

The following days were hard. It was, again, filled with anger and sadness. After a few days, we unlocked his phone to reminisce. There, we found pictures, videos and notes dedicated to each of us.

In my letter, he wrote, “Don’t be sad, don’t be upset. It is no one’s fault that I followed the light to the end of the tunnel.” The thing was I was upset and I was sad. I never thought that the person whom I loved the most would be gone so quickly.

The following months were even harder, especially because we immediately went into lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic. But it gave me a lot of time to think and, to be honest, a lot of time to blame myself.

I tend to blame myself and who I was back then a lot, and I still do it today. I was a moody, depressed teenager who barely let people take pictures of her or even touch her. I hated who I was, and I hated what my life was. There was so much I could have done and should have done, and here I was, blaming myself. Here I am today, still blaming myself.

However, something awoke in me, and I learned a life lesson. 

Cherish every moment you have. Don’t be stuck being shy or introverted. You have one life, and it is going so fast that you can’t stop for one second. 

I know, this is something everyone says, and why didn’t I know before? 

To answer that, I didn’t want to believe that life was too fast and I shouldn’t have to cherish every single moment because, I thought, there would be way more to come. I also never expected something like this to happen to my mother, to me, to my sisters and my brother. To our family. 

Once I became aware of this life lesson to which I had just understood, I decided enough was enough. I needed to live my life. I broke out of my introvertedness and my shyness. I spoke my truth, I made new friends and I pushed myself to make my life better.

I didn’t want to be stuck in the past and be who I was before. I wanted to be someone who my father could be proud of, and I know he would say he already is, but I want to be someone else. 

I want to cherish my life and the little things that accompany it. I don’t want to sit and wait for things to happen but instead go and find those things, make them work and live my life. 

I only have one life and that is so terrifying to me that it keeps me up every night. But it won’t change the fact that I have one life and I need to make the most of it.

So, I write this for my father. 

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t remember the times we had or how funny you were. I will never forget the times of knocking on the car window after school, trying to wake you up from a nap you HAD to take. I won’t forget you sharing my first ever play of the game on Overwatch to all of your Facebook friends and you mentioning how you were so proud even though it was just a stupid video game. 

I wish I could say I won’t forget your laugh or your voice, but sadly, over time, you tend to forget even if you try so hard not to. I wish things were different, but I believe if things were different, I wouldn’t be who I am today.

I’m sorry if I made anyone cry, but as I get closer to another milestone in my life, I tend to get emotional. I know my father will be watching me walk across the stage and will be alongside me as I work my way through life.

To whoever made it this far, please cherish your loved ones. Remember the good times and to be who you are, no matter what. Things happen, and my god, it is so scary. But things have to happen in order for you to grow.

The passing of my father is the hardest challenge I have ever faced, and I’m still facing it today. But do not let it stop you from being who you are. My father would not have wanted me to stop from becoming who I am today.