Only From the Grave / by Rebecca Tillett


Anybody who really knows me knows my growing-up years were a bit tumultuous. My dad was a troubled alcoholic battling some pretty horrific demons. I was a painfully shy only child who morphed into a painfully shy, self-destructive and severely depressed teenager. I remember writing in my journal around the age of 15 that I absolutely would not make it past the age of 19. I'd planned to end it as soon as I found the courage because if what I'd experienced thus far was "life" why bother living much longer? It was all so terribly sad - how unhappy I was growing up and how little desire I had to be happy. In my defense, I think I just didn't know how. There was very little happiness in my home, if any, despite my poor mother's best efforts. (If it weren't for her, I'm sure I'd be some nameless drug-addicted skeletal woman living in an alley somewhere.) But I digress. My dad took his own life a week prior to Christmas of 1998 and a few days afterwards, my mom was cleaning out the entertainment center and found a red spiral bound notebook shoved into one of the lower cabinets. Turns out, he'd been keeping a journal for a few months - an extended suicide note, if you will. She'd made photocopied versions for family and a friend or two. She made the mistake of loaning the original notebook to his sister who still has not returned it. So I have one of the photocopied books.

For years, I've been wanting to scan all the pages and make something nicer of it. Our relationship was always strained and difficult but I thought he deserved that much at least. I also thought it may be therapeutic and a decent way to end that chapter of my life. Unfortunately, I never felt mentally capable of such an undertaking...until recently. So a few months back I took the first step in scanning all the pages and then, I don't know...became busy with other things? Forgot? But a few weeks ago I was contacted by a cousin of my dad's - someone I've never known or met and we've been talking about our family, all of the tragedies, damage, anguish and I suddenly remembered this was something I never finished. So I set this weekend aside and promised myself I'd get it done. And now it is.

I'm not sure if anyone but me would find this interesting in any way and if not, that's certainly okay. I didn't do this for anyone else, after all.

Only from the grave by Clay and Rebecca Tillett

"Average reader will think at this point that I'm asking for faith - nothing could be further from the truth! I ask only for wisdom and the ability to use it - for the future...upon which all depends, without which all is lost."

To preview and/or purchase the book, click the image above or go here: And to read the wonderful writing of Tamara Linse (the cousin I mentioned above) go here: