My dad was a drunk and made sure I learned every racist term in the book before I was 12. I'm sure he'd be devastated if I managed to kill myself, without ever realizing how much he contributed to the desire in the first place.
My life has only gotten better since he died. Rest in piss old man, I'm glad you're dead.
Edits: also, single moms rule — I'd fight a T-Rex for my mom. I'd lose, but god damnit I'd try.