The Story Behind What You See: “THE DAGGER and THE DEPTHS OF DESPAIR”

I woke at 6.30am with sun streaming through the window. It was quiet, but something felt wrong. I couldn’t work out what it was as I struggled through my foggy brain. Suddenly the word “dad” came to mind with the question – was dad home? I remembered he had gone to the movies the night before and my husband and I had gone to sleep before he returned home. I rushed out of bed and checked outside, somehow knowing what I would find and with a sense of dread churning inside me – his car was not there. I ran to his room next and stopped dead in his doorway….

In a very empty room on his bed, lay a single white plastic bag. I think I knew what was in it. I also knew why my father was not home. It was the day my world (and that of my husband and family) changed forever – the 15th of July 2021, four days after my birthday. My dad aged 86yrs had taken his life.

Two weeks before his suicide, I found out my dad was trying to sell something to an antique house in Melbourne. It was an old Arabian silver Dagger from an Arabian Dhow off the coast of Kenya. My Danish grandparents (father’s parents) worked on a tobacco plantation in Kenya around 1935 and my grandmother loved buying rugs and other valuables from Arabian ships passing by – and that is where she found this dagger. Growing up I always wished and hoped I could inherit it. Imagine my surprise – and to be honest – my dismay and horror, that my father would be selling something I had always asked for. This then created a wedge between us - I was furious with dad. A couple of days later my father told me he was only trying to get it valued as he wanted to settle his credit card (he lived with us and had very little money).

I completely missed the ‘red flag’ of dad wanting to settle his affairs…. There were lots of other ‘red flags’. For instance, when dad knew we were going to move he tried his utmost to dissuade us and refused to help me and my husband pack. He said all sorts of things, but I particularly remember him saying: “What about my friends, I am going to miss my friends”. I remember thinking – but you don’t have friends around our home dad. In the next breath he spoke about missing his favourite coffee shop, his hairdresser, his bank and so forth. I didn’t understand the significance and so simply dismissed this as relatively unimportant.

In that bag on dad’s bed, was that Arabian dagger – but I was FURIOUS. I didn’t want the dagger, I wanted my father instead. I wanted a goodbye note from him. I wanted some kind words that said something like “I thought of you Sonja and I wanted you to have this dagger from me”. I wanted to roll back time.

After my father was found, I spent the next 2 days stripping every single thing from his room, everything that belonged to him – and got rid of it ALL. I was so so so angry that he could do this to us. I wanted the room clear of his things and I tried to get rid of his memory! I think my husband hid away that dagger and in the months afterwards I would see it around in the bag in some cupboard, but every time I refused to open that bag and I refused to think about what that dagger meant.

It was May 2025 and Greg told me about the Ink Stamp he found, that belonged to his brother John, who also took his life. We decided to create a montage of photos that comprised John’s inkpad and my father’s (also ironically called John) dagger – that is the photo you see. These objects represent our loved ones. I am not sure my anger has disappeared completely, but I feel like my emotions have started to change because of how we are choosing to use these objects. That dagger now stands for something more positive…because that dagger, that photo, the montage Greg has created – will represent the reasons for why Greg and I have chosen to start “Connect, Listen, Be-with”.

In the wake of dad’s suicide, I have come to understand some truths so much more clearly. Those places and people my father spoke about missing before we moved, they were crucial to dad’s sense of connection. He was feeling lonely, depressed, disconnected…and suicidal. By moving, my father had to think about creating some new connections and some new purpose – and I believe this was too hard for him. With his old connections he had his favourite barista who knew his name and the coffee he drank; he had his hairdresser who allowed him to jump queues so he could get a haircut; he had a café where the staff welcomed him and brought his favourite meal. In these 5-10 min interactions and CONNECTIONS my dad felt noticed and LISTENED to. He found people who could be WITH-HIM. These connections I believe, helped keep my father alive. It is simplistic to think this is all he needed, but I feel they played a bigger part in his life, than I had ever realized.

When we moved my father lost his CONNECTIONS, did not feel LISTENED to and felt he had no-one to BE-WITH. So, this story explains my reasons for wanting to advocate in the space of suicide-prevention/ awareness especially with older people. It explains Greg and my passion in raising awareness around how short, brief interactions can help reduce distress and increase that sense of connection with others. Something so seemingly simple can help save a life.