SOS - A Month Afterward

SOS - Survivors of Suicide
I've been doing a lot of reading and note taking about suicide, or more so, about being a survivor of suicide.    Suicide is such a mess.  It is unbelievable how one person's decision can affect so many lives.   Even as we begin to understand our loved one killed them self in a desperate attempt to end their pain, we often feel that their anguish has not been extinguished but simply passed on to us.

In my own case, my son left a trail of bills to contend with.  He also had just broken up with his girlfriend of 3+ years, causing him to move back home.  A month after, he started dating someone else.  When the ex found out about his dating, it is my belief that she started hounding my son, perhaps making him feel guilty (and he shouldn't have felt any! He's the one who had to vacate the home he'd been living in!)  After Brian died, I was hounded by both of these women!  First they resorted to sending me text messages, then trying to "friend" me on FaceBook.  His ex also had people leaving notes on my car two separate times.  I finally had to send her a text that read "My son DIED!  Please leave me alone to grieve in peace."

The "what ifs" plague survivors of suicide.  A person's decision to end their life is solitary and unconnected to survivors of suicide.  When we accept that it was their choice alone is when we can move past the what if's.  I've done my share of them, wondering if only I'd said "this" or noticed "that".   The loss of a child is devastating.  Suicide is an act of violence - not only against yourself, but against others, the ones left behind to deal with it all.

Sometimes we feel guilty because of what our loved one did;  it shouldn't affect how we think of them or remember them.  That's why I keep writing to Brian, and logging stories as I recall them on a website , to keep him alive in my mind the way he was, and not focusing on his last action.

Suicide leaves in its wake a tremendous sense of confusion and displacement for those of us left behind.  Family members who have lost a loved one to suicide are blamed and avoided more often than relatives of people who have died under other circumstances.  This can reinforce the quiet and self blame that already preoccupies survivors of suicide.  The irrationality of suicide leaves the survivor no room for definitive resolution.

The roller coaster of emotions following a suicide causes intense feelings of isolation and a breaking apart from all that once seemed familiar.  Survivors of suicide experience a wide range of often contradictory emotions following the suicide of a loved one, it's impact alters our lives forever.

There is no easy way to eradicate the pain of grieving.  The toll that suicide exacts on its survivors is very high.   Oddly, my son's final note said that he knew I was strong, and that he wanted me to be happy.  For those of us who have been left behind, the legacy of suicide lies not in reconciling ourselves to inevitable defeat, but in recognizing that our spirit of survival remains both resilient and intact.

My life was forever changed July 2, 2019, but somehow I will survive. 
I know in my heart that my son didn't want to die forever,
just on that day, when he had been in so much pain.

What If's and Why's

When it comes to surviving a death by suicide, one of the hardest questions to answer is "WHY?"  Logically, we will never know the entire scope of things going on, but we may be able to pinpoint whatever was the 'straw that broke the camel's back'.

In my quest for answers, I'm using a Survivor of Suicide guide written by Jeffrey Jackson.  In the section dealing with the Why's he tells us that it's normal to always wonder about the why's.  And if you think you have the answer, think again.  Chances are you're only seeing part of the picture.

In my own case, I believe I know the why answer to the straw that broke the camel's back.  My son Brian was in a relationship with a woman who ... didn't always tell the truth.  While I can be certain that I didn't know the entire truth of their relationship, I know two things:  She told him she was given a terminal illness verdict and has only a few months to live and at the same time, she broke up with him and he moved back home.

Brian was always the one who felt things deeply.  And if I admit it in my heart of hearts, I always worried about him and his mental health.  He had many obstacles in his path with his vision impairment, and it was a source of many sorrows when it came to friendships as a young boy, as he grew into a young man.

I am stuck in the what if's at this stage of my grief.  What if I had recognized something? anything? What if I had a clue?  When he called off work because things were ugly with another woman he had dated the week before, when I offered to take off and drive him to the beach, to anywhere -- if he had said "let's go" I wouldn't have hesitated.  Would it have made a difference???

I believe what Jeffrey Jackson says is true:  that every time life left a little dent in Brian, he carried that pain with him.  He may have moved past the incident, but the pain stayed with him.  With each new hurt both great and small, a little more pain is added to this tragic cargo until it becomes unbearable.

Trying to figure out the why is part of the process, but in the end, be prepared to face the possibility that many of the answers may be unknowable.  There will come a time when ... hopefully ... I can accept that there isn't going to be a satisfactory explanation for it all.

I always tried to be there when my son needed something, and would have continued to do so through anything it took.  But he wasn't the kind of guy who asked for help (or directions!! haha) and I have to accept that part as well.

I know that in the deep dark hours of night, the what if's will still haunt me for now.   I'm just hoping that by continuing to write, to feel, to allow myself the time I need, they will happen less often, and I can just accept things.

My son made a tragic, regrettable choice to end his life.  I will never fully know what was going on with him, or how different aspects of his life contributed to his decision.  I'm sad that he felt the need to end his pain this way.   But a mother's love for her son lives on.

Rest in peace, Brian.

Fall & Old Loves

Fall is coming soon to the Valley of the Sun.  While it's still over 100's on a daily basis, you can sense there's a change in the weather about to happen.   And as I get older, I find myself wanting to know about the people who meant a lot to me when I was a lot younger.  People who influenced me in a big way when I was still trying to find my own identity.  One of those people is a guy named Ron Parker.

When I was 19-20 years old, I worked for a forklift dealership, back in the service department.  I would take calls from customers and dispatch a mechanic over to fix their forklift.  It was a job that took a lot of time management, and I was really good at it.  (Besides, what better job for a young female than a job telling ten men where to go and what to do ????)  I took a few lumps and hard knocks from a few of them, but I earned their respect, and most of them treated me like a little sister.  They watched out for me if we stopped for drinks after work, made sure I was OK to drive home, listened when life seemed unfair.  Except Ron.  He was different.  Long and lanky, he had a quick smile and great eyes.  He was pretty handy with a wrench, too!    I was hooked, fell hard.  But I was engaged to my high school sweetheart.  (Which is another weird and winding story...)

I was young and inexperienced in the ways of other men, having known only my high school sweetheart.  I was raised old fashioned and since he was my first, I knew I was supposed to stay .... and then I met Ron.  He was many things my fiance wasn't.  And when I was with him, I felt important, that what I had to say mattered, that my knowledge and my common sense didn't have to be hidden, because he was just as smart and had just as much common sense.  It's hard to put it all into words because so many years have passed, but he was just so much more than my fiance.

We started hanging out together, enjoying a few beers with the guys after work.   It became a weekly ritual and needless to say, I wasn't fit to drive one night.  I went home with Ron.  He didn't take advantage of me, he just took care of me, let me sleep it off.  Without having to add any high school style commentary, or rude jokes.

We became close, and I was sure it was love.  And more than that.  Because we were friends on equal footing.  And that seemed important.  I started hanging out at his house, he took me to meet his parents.  No one pushed, even though it was obvious that I had an important decision to make:  Ron or Fiance.   And I wanted Ron.  So I told my parents, who went through the roof because wedding plans were already in place.  They had me in counseling with the family pastor immediately.  Oddly enough, he agreed that if I had this many doubts, I probably shouldn't get married.  But my parents were good with the guilt, and I walked down that aisle, looking over my shoulder every chance I could get, wondering if Ron would be there "like a knight in shining armor" ready to take me away from the place I didn't really want to be.

As I look back on all that now, I don't recall much of my wedding at all.  And Ron is the reason why.   But he had too much respect for me as a person to choose for me; he knew I needed to choose for myself.   In the end, I couldn't go against my parents' wishes.

But here is it, fall again, and I find myself thinking of him, because I enjoyed our time together in September into November.

I wonder what became of his life, did he marry or have kids?
has he been happy?  Is he still in California?
.Does he ever think about me?

Maybe some day, I'll have my answers.

What if?

Where we are in life is based on either our own selfish choices 

or those where we put other's needs above our own.  

Choose wisely.

At my age, interesting thoughts happen when I can't sleep. I realized this while watching Blue Bloods. The Reagan family, a family of cops, shows us this:  "Every day a cop makes a difference in people's lives." That's an admirable thing to have, to do.  Teachers do, too, in a different way.  They don't always see the end result until many years later.  Like raising kids.  You never know until the years are gone, and they become something, someone, with choices and lives of their own.

Me, my job doesn't make much difference in that kind of sense.  What I do doesn't have a direct impact on people.  But that doesn't mean I can't, or don't.   Being a parent is a job in and of itself; I raised my own two kids mostly on my own.  And had a hand in raising up several step children as well.  I know what I did made a difference, I can see it first hand.  Mostly from afar, but that's the way it is when kids grow up and start their lives.  It's how it should be.

But I often wonder at the choices I made, play the "What IF" game in my head.

What if I'd gone to college?
What if I'd waited to get married?
What if I'd waited to have kids?

That's never a winning battle.  I can look back on situations and think that a better choice could have
been made - but that would be in hindsight, knowing things that were unknowable at the time the decision(s) were made.  Don't start down the road wishing for things to be different.  You can't change history, but you can make positive changes starting today!

So rather than focus on those old what if's and what not's that scurry around my brain in the wee hours of the night, I prefer to spend my time doing things that are pleasing to me in these so called "Golden Years" -- I putter on my house, I make great photos when I'm out and about, I take long walks with my dog, and visit with my children and grandchildren whenever I can.  And of course, I write in my blog here ... perhaps some day these little blurbs and random thoughts will give insight or meaning to generations who may ponder these very same things.