28

Gennaio
28 Gennaio 2025

NOW IS NOT THE RIGHT TIME

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47 sec

When I was two years old, my father wal­ked into the woods with the inten­tion of never coming back.

For almo­st 20 years, my paren­ts cho­se silen­ce about his sui­ci­de attempt. And yet, I found myself dra­wn to the pla­ce whe­re it hap­pe­ned and on the anni­ver­sa­ry a wave of grief washed over me. When my paren­ts final­ly deci­ded to tell me, it all began to make sen­se. 

This pro­ject star­ted out as an inve­sti­ga­tion into the tra­ces of a well-kept fami­ly secret. As I revi­si­ted my paren­ts’ trau­ma – the pla­ces, objec­ts and memo­ries that I could not call my own – I also found it here, insi­de me. My body had always kno­wn. 

This is not just a sto­ry about a sui­ci­de attempt. It is about the impos­si­bi­li­ty of secre­ts, about what we share when we hide. It is about pain inflic­ted out of love, the com­ple­xi­ty of silen­ce, and the inex­pli­ca­ble sad­ness of a boy.

Mum, Dad, this is your trau­ma. It has wrap­ped you up in coun­tless colour­ful blan­ke­ts and yet unwit­tin­gly han­ded over to me in a loving embra­ce. 

I will car­ry it with care. 

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