Finding Your Way in the Wake of a Suicide:
There will be a hole in your heart forever when someone you love and care about departs this life. A willful departure compounds those feelings of loss.
Like most folks, our experiences with death are limited at best. No universal guides are available. In the wake of a suicide, you are left not knowing what to do, what to share or what details to seek out.
As time passes I find myself constantly reflecting on the past and struggling to live in the moment. I personally put little effort in the tomorrows, but then I am OLD.
It has been almost six decades now since my first grandparent died (of old age.) It is close to two decades now since Rebecca (my wife,) chose to end her life. It is common to get caught up in the whys and what happens to them after life here on this planet. Just more things we cannot validate.
My life has wandered down endless paths trying to Develop Coping Skills. It is not about going back to the way I was before the event. That is not realistic. The feasible thing is to rebuild a new and different life from all the debris. After the suicide you cannot put the pieces back as they were. Your old self is gone.
I have read a lot of books on suicide that focus on the effects of those left behind. I have attended seminars that emphasized a wide range of support activities. I have participated in years of Survivor Of Suicide “SOS” and Grief Share Support Programs. Influenced by all I have heard, read and witnessed regarding suicide, I have adjusted. I have found PEACE and hope it carries me through my closing years.
The first three months or so (with the exception of a few encounters) are just a blur. During that period I regressed, withdrew . . . I simply existed. As I think about it now, everything got re-classified into a single category “Unimportant.” Appearances at my home did not reflect this. I was somehow able to continue my contract teaching job . . . but frankly, I cannot explain that.
At the beginning of month number four, a friend from my church, Kathleen, informed me that we were going to an SOS meeting. Since the suicide of her husband, (a personal friend of mine,) I spent considerable time helping her and her three grown children through the aftermath. So, Kathleen spoke my language.
I was not at all interested in going. At the time, I had no idea what a support group was. I thought this was the worse idea I could imagine. That first night, walking down the basement stairs to a large room (with no visible windows) added to the gloom. I was taken back because most folks seemed to know each other and some were even laughing and cutting up. One word comes to mind, WEIRD. I wanted to leave.
As the session started each person, in a round robin fashion, stated their name, the name of the person they lost, the relationship, the date and the method of departure. That was shocking . . . ultimate discomfort. From time to time I made eye contact with others and had it not been for Kathleen, I would have walked out.
Over my life, I had been involved in a lot of group activities and meetings (through work, Church and Scouts.) So, I had encountered lots of folks I did not know. These people were little different, in physical appearance. As the session proceeded with stories and comments, I began to think “these people are crazy.”
When the session concluded an older fellow, (I was 58 at the time,) Paul, came over to speak with me. The only thing he said that I remember was “You are never going to figure this out, you can never truly know.” That statement made him an instant adversary, who had no idea what he was talking about. Leaving that room was the only relief of the evening.
On the way home, to my shock, Kathleen proceed to convince me I needed to give these sessions a try (for a while.) That made me think that even Kathleen was crazy. I think I just did not want to hear anything because nothing made any sense to me.
Looking back the SOS sessions (not every one of them) proved to be my best rebuilding tool. I even came to highly respect Paul. We still keep up with each other, after all these years (that was June of 1999.)
Paul and his wife May had lost a 20ish-year-old Son. They lived less than a mile from me. We would have private loss discussions over coffee and driving to and from the every Wednesday night SOS meetings.
As an OLD man now, I have encountered some suicide situations, where the survivor, has come out the other end of the crisis tunnel. They have successfully rebuilt a new life. Not the one they use to have, but a productive one with purpose. One that makes a difference to the folks around them.
So my message here is . . . pay attention and select your rebuilding path carefully. Not everything that works for some will work for you. However, chances of rebuilding on your own are really low. Don’t allow yourself to become withdrawn and isolated. I have never seen that work for anyone. Sermon over.