Today, 25 May 2022, my dad Kinny Naidoo would have celebrated his 60th birthday. Sadly he only lived to celebrate 36 of these special days and I was only able to share 9 of these with him. Most of my family and close friends here will be aware that he tragically took his own life just weeks before his 37th birthday and as I start to approach that age myself, with a little girl of my own, I realise how necessary it is to be able to openly acknowledge what his loss has meant to me. I have thought many times over the years about how his story may have ended differently if we, as a community were more open about our mental health struggles and if we created space for those experiencing these difficulties to reach out without feeling stigmatised or judged. That being said I want to honor his birthday by sharing the very first letter I have ever written to my dad.
Dear Daddy,
I pray that your soul is at rest. As a child I didn't realise it but now as an adult I know how unrested you were in life. I looked up at your larger than life physique and personality and saw you as a hero and a giant but at only 36, you yourself were still just a kid.
For the first few years, I thought about you every single day, as time went on it became a few times each week and twenty three years later I think about you mostly when things are really good and when they are really bad. I have gone on a rollercoaster of grief, from denial to anger to acceptance and finally just a dull ache. My emotions have often been confused by the tragedy of your loss. Sometimes I felt ashamed, sometimes I felt abandoned and sometimes I felt guilty. It has taken me many years to peel back the layers of brokenness that developed over the past two decades. Through it all I have sorely missed whatever I can remember of you.
I cling to memories that have now become hazy. I cling to stories others have told me. I try to find parts of you in me and now in Avery. The most obvious is your sense of humour and hearty laugh. We both have it. I often have flashbacks of you when I see her interact with Ransley. Their relationship makes me remember ours. Like when you would carry me on your shoulders or box with me playfully. I wish we had more time.
I think of all the things that you have missed out on. The celebrations where you would have been seated in the front row holding the most proud place. Two graduations, two weddings, two deliveries (If you count Liam and Talia as one). Today you have three amazing grandchildren. Your daughters are also amazing and Mummy did a far better job than anyone could have expected of her. It has been a hard road but family and friends have been there for us and together we have weathered the worst to get to where we are today.
I often wonder what life would be like if you were still around. From the moment you were gone, we ebbed and flowed, unstable with every current that came and were tossed around by the harsh reality of a life without a leader and a protector. This is how I know that God's plan and purpose for all our lives is so much bigger that anything we could fathom.
I have wanted to say to you that I am sorry that you felt alone, that you were in pain and that you didn't feel like you could go on. I would have loved to tell you that despite what you were internally going through, you were a great daddy and I wish that could have been enough. I wish your story ended differently but your struggle has been a reminder in my times of pain and sadness that I have no choice but to go on. Your loss has been the biggest factor in my life and has made who I am today, my strength and my weakness.
I have learned so much from losing you. It didn't feel worth the lessons at first but I see so many people in pain around me and you are my reminder to be there for them and to not overlook anyone's suffering. I have seen the impact that your loss has had on our family and it is a reminder that I owe it to them to push through the pain and keep seeking the joy. I have been doing a lot of work to overcome the trauma and grief and to get to a place of healing and being able to hold space for other people who need healing too.
I don't know for sure how these things work and if we will actually meet again but I am in no hurry to find out because I have so much left to do here and so much more that I want to walk Avery through. Living without you has made me value the place I have in her life above any other role I have. I guess for that I thank you.
Happy Birthday.
Your daughter, Nivani
From the perspective of someone who has lost a parent to suicide, I want to say to anyone who is struggling, if you feel like you have no purpose, that the pain is so much that you can't go on or that you are completely alone, this is absolutely untrue! In this life, there is light beyond the darkness and there is so much more hope of getting help now then there was twenty years ago. Please keep trying to get the help you need. We need you.
This information is from the South African Depression and Anxiety Group website:
In South Africa there are 23 suicides a day recorded and 230 serious attempts.
You can call SADAG to talk on behalf of a loved one, colleague, or friend.
Trained counsellors are there to help and refer you to local counsellors, facilities and Support Groups.
0800 21 22 23 (8am to 8pm)
0800 12 13 14 (8pm to 8am)
Or SMS 31393.