For sometime I’ve wanted to tell my story, but I wasn’t exactly sure if anyone cared to listen. Then I realized… quite frankly I don’t give a damn. These are words that I am choosing to write for no one other than myself and for those who care to read them of course.

(Disclaimer: I am extremely terrible at spelling and using correct grammar. So if you are the “perfectionist type” you might want to look away!)

My childhood was perfection. You couldn’t have painted a better family picture then The Fanelli’s. My dad was a hardworking man who gave us everything he possibly could have. (I bet you noticed I used past tense there.. I will get to that later) My mom was a stay at home mom who dedicated her life to her children and making sure we had everything we needed to succeed in life. With those two raising us my two brothers and I were on the road to success!

Looking back at my childhood now I didn’t realize how good I had it until I didn’t have it anymore..

My childhood was ripped out of my hands faster than a present-greedy kid on christmas. At the age of 16 I was forced to learn what the world was about and what really went on behind close doors in my house.

January 24th 2012

It was Mid-term week for us Dix Hills students, and this student was over tired and missed the bus that day. My mother was kind enough to offer to drive me to school. We had some extra time before we had to leave, so we sat on the couch and watched the news together in silence. I had no idea this would be the last time I saw my father. He came into the den and said “No school today?” I filled him in that I had missed the bus and would be leaving shortly. He said nothing and turned around. (This did not seem odd to me because I was going through some teenage bullshit which made my relationship with my family {and myself} terrible at the time.) But if I knew what I knew now I would’ve stopped that man dead in his tracks and slapped some reality into him.

My mom dropped me off, I took my test and got on the BOCES bus to go to hair school. All was going as usual. My classmates and I were killing time by practicing some up-do’s on our manikin’s when I received the text message that would change my life. My next door neighbor texted me “Gi why are there cop cars and an ambulance at your house?!” My heart sank..

I immediately thought the worst.  I run to the bathroom in a panic and call my mom. She doesn’t answer. I start having a panic attack at this point. (If walls had any sort of feeling I would owe this one an apology because I was punching it like I was Ronda Rousey in a cage fight.) I call once more. My Aunt Irene answers this time with a nervous “Hey G…!” I ask for my mother and she told me she was busy doing something. I heard the fear and overwhelmed tone in her voice, I know something is definitely up. I insisted I speak to my mother immediately. She gets on the phone and I ask “What the hell is going on, why did I get a text asking about an ambulance in front of our house?! WHERE IS DAD?” She just kept repeating while choking back tears “He is fine, your Uncle is coming to pick you up from school he will be there soon..” At this point my teacher is banging on the bathroom door insisting I let her in because she had no clue what was going on. I opened the door and lost my shit. Completely lost my SHIT.

They put me in the conference room where an entire group of teachers tried to calm me down and help me try to make sense of what was going on. I thought my father was being arrested for killing my boyfriend at the time. So I was mentally pre-paring myself for not being able to see him for a while. (Who would’ve thought a while would’ve actually been forever) After what seemed like years my Uncle finally showed up. The car ride was silent but my thoughts weren’t, I prayed to my Grandfather in heaven that my dad would be alright the entire car ride home. I broke the silence with one question and asked “Is my father okay.” My Uncle told me that he had no clue what was going on, all he knew was that he had to come get me and get me home ASAP.

We pulled up to my house and when I got inside my Grandpa♥ smuthered me with a hug. I didn’t see anyone yet, My grandfather immediately hugged me and cried on me. Once he released me I laid eyes on my mother and my heart fucking shattered. She was ghostly pale, her eyes where beat red and full of tears. I asked “Where is dad? When can I see him.” She broke down in more tears and said “…He’s gone.” I dropped to the floor and couldn’t speak. I felt like time was frozen. I next saw that my brother Frank was in the room, he held my mom and they just cried with me. She explained to me that she had found him and that first responders said it was a heart attack. I screamed on the top of my lungs “THIS IS MY FAULT.. I’M SO SORRY DAD… I’M SO SORRY.” Over and over again. I blamed myself for it all because of the stress I was putting my family through at the time. I couldn’t believe he was gone.

The funeral is a blur to me (Thank you to all that came and supported my family and I during those times.) I don’t remember much other than the fact that my dad had touched so many people’s hearts. The line was out the door and down the block to get in. Everyone who I met that night had a great story to tell about my father, and they all said the same thing to me. “He was a hard-working man who adored you and your mom and brothers.” Those words that everyone had told me where true but I couldn’t stand the overwhelming feelings of guilt that I carried with me. I thought I caused my father’s heart attack and that I was the reason he was gone.

Things got quite after the funeral was over, It gave me time to think. I knew something did not add up about my father’s death. I asked my mom for months about what happened, I just couldn’t understand it. He was so healthy, it was so odd to me that he just dropped dead like that. After a while I gave up and just wrapped my head around the fact that he was gone and that was the reason. Until one night when I had a dream. (Gianna Luther King)

(Disclaimer: THIS NEXT PARAGRAPH IS NOT A LIE AND MAY SHOCK SOME OF YOU.)

I had a dream around 2 years after my father’s death. My father sat me down at my kitchen table and told me that he had committed suicide in my yard that morning when my mom went to go drop me off for school. He wanted me to hear it from him and he thought I needed to know the truth. And for everyone who does not know.. It unfortunately is the truth I later found out when I woke up. My father, the most amazing man in the world took his own life on January 24th 2012 due to depression from pain killers he was prescribed from a work injury. It is an open wound that time will not heal for my family and I and we deal with it everyday of our lives.

I chose to share this story to help give you all an understanding of what I have gone through. It may help explain the way I am and why I react to certain things the way I do. I recently have made a lot of changes in my life and starting to write more is one of those changes I am making. Without my father dying I would not be where I am today, I have learned from his mistakes and I have grown with it. It has made me into the women I am today. I thank all of those who have take the time to have read my story and I hope it sheds some light on things for others. ∴