My Father’s Suicide: 18 Years Ago

suicide suicideI know I say this every year, but time really is a weird thing! It’s the only thing I know that can feel both long and short at the same time — years somehow never feel like just years in the literal sense, which is something I’m continually grappling with in an effort to. So when I think about how last week marked 18 years since my father died from suicide, my mind still can’t comprehend how much time that feels like because it actually feels like a long time and like it just happened yesterday.

I’ve thought a lot about the passing of time and how you experience that time after a loved one dies from suicide; maybe I’ve even spent too much time thinking about it sometimes? All I know is that maybe time feels weird because a part of you never really left the moment your loved one died. Although I’m physically here in 2021, there’s still a part of me that never left March 10th, 2003. There’s still a part of me that’s the scared, frightened 21-year-old who doesn’t know how she’ll go on living without her father and just can’t believe that any of this is real.

It’s sort of like living in two parallel universes and something tells me that it will always be that way. But maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing? Maybe it’s not so bad to “walk between” these two worlds, to have one foot in the past and one in the present — it’s a way to link the two perhaps? At the very least, I can’t help but feel like it’s a way to keep my dad with me, which is all I’ve ever wanted since the day he died.

suicideAnd speaking of keeping him with me, something interesting happened last week. I’m usually not one to believe in signs, but last night, a drawing of my dad and me fell down! This beautiful illustration was given to me by the talented artist Brooke Costello and I love it because it feels like a part of my dad is still with me whenever I look at it.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: If you’re somehow looking down on us, Dad, I hope you’re proud of the people we’ve become!! We miss you every day and wish you were here with us…

My Father’s Suicide: 17 Years Ago

suicideMy father died from suicide 17 years ago this week — forever making March 10th my least favorite day of the year. And, just like clockwork, I find myself asking the same question again this year: How has it been so long?

But that sort of question is only natural any time you lose someone you love, isn’t it? And it’s especially true when you lose that loved one to suicide — one of the most sudden and cruel of deaths. After all, the world you’d known for so long (in my case, 21 years) is rocked and abruptly shifts forever; it’s a swift and painful jolt to everything around you that was once the bedrock of your life. What was once familiar and comforting is now foreign and confusing. What was once light and airy is now dark and heavy.

My father’s suicide is the demarcation of my two lives: Life with my dad and life without him. I feel like I’m looking at someone else’s life when I look at old childhood photos. There were times I was so angry with the world, but looking at these family photos just makes me miss him right now. For so long, I resisted feeling those conflicting emotions. How could I feel something like love and anger at the same time? I mean, I had to choose one, didn’t I?

suicideThanks to my wonderful therapist, I’ve come to embrace ALL the emotions, especially the conflicting ones. She helped me see that it’s OK to feel seemingly two opposite emotions together at once. All those feelings are part of the grieving process and we all know that grief takes as long as it takes.

Life with my dad was always an adventure — full of seeing, doing, exploring and discovering. He made sure that my disability didn’t stop me from experiencing everything this world had to offer, whether that involved carrying me to the water’s edge, holding me up so I could play a video game in the hospital or holding me on the merry-go-round.

I wasn’t always so open about my father’s suicide, but I’ve realized that silence only contributes to stigma. It’s important to say it and to talk about it. Thanks for always letting me talk (err, write) about it…

suicideI’m grateful for those memories every day. I love you so much, Dad. You were the greatest…thank you for everything you taught me!!! xoxo

My Essay on The Fix: “Let’s Talk About Suicide”

SuicideMy newest byline was such an important one for me to write, so I’ll just get right to it today, friends! September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. I knew I wanted to write something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. After I thought about it for a bit, the idea seemed so obvious and it became my fourth piece for The Fix…

In 2019, it seems like we already know so much about suicide. It’s easy to look up statistics and, unfortunately, it’s rare that a day goes by without at least one headline or mention on the news. We know all the facts, don’t we? Despite all that, though, what we rarely do is talk about suicide. We don’t have open conversations about the people we’ve lost and what the suicide of a loved one leaves in its wake. Maybe we’re scared. Maybe the topic just makes us too uncomfortable altogether.

For whatever reason, we just don’t talk about it.

As you already know, I’ve never been like that. I’ve talked about losing my father and I’ve written openly about it. A lot. Some people say that I shouldn’t talk about suicide and while that may be the right choice for them, it’s never been the right choice for me.

Here’s an excerpt of the piece, which I hope will help us all to start a conversation about this hard-to-talk-about topic…

There’s a catch-22 when it comes to suicide: People are reluctant to talk about it because it’s a sensitive and deeply personal topic, but it remains a sensitive topic because people don’t talk about it. So we find ourselves tip-toeing around suicide altogether, which doesn’t help anyone. For years, I’d find myself at a loss for words whenever someone would mention suicide, so I’ve been there.

That’s why I’ve been trying to change suicide’s shameful stigma. For the last 16 years, I’ve been vocal, unafraid to talk about the very things people don’t want to talk about. In the beginning, I talked about my father as a way to process my grief. I saw it as a way to keep my father’s memory alive, but as the years went on, I began to realize that my talking about his suicide wasn’t just for me. Sure, it may have started out that way, but the more statistics I read and the more stories I heard, the more I learned how many people are affected by suicide. I began to feel a responsibility to share my story.

SuicideAnd, it looks like my story might actually be starting a conversation — or, at the very least, getting people to think about suicide in a different way. Today, my piece is among the most popular articles on The Fix! That, friends, makes me incredibly hopeful for a future with less suicides stigmas and more compassion and understanding. Are you with me??

You can read the full piece here and I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to email me anytime at mellow1422@aol.com and let’s chat! And of course, feel free to share my essay on Facebook, Twitter or even your local refrigerator. If you share on Twitter, be sure to tag me @melissablake so we can connect! I can’t wait to hear from you! Love you all… xoxo

[Top photo via Unsplash]

Ms. Bear: On Hurting, Healing and Happiness

HealingJune 10th. I remember Brian and I smiling ear to ear after we picked the date for our wedding. You know, the giddiness of the newly engaged and all. Just thinking about that makes me smile. As I enjoyed this memory, it got me thinking about the long and winding trajectory that lets me sit here, by my open kitchen window, right around the time Brian and I were married and actually smiling. You see, after someone you love dies, a funny thing happens. For me, I can’t pinpoint when the healing started, but I can see the results of it as I sit here, wrapped in my happy memories of my wedding day.

Year one was what I call the “Ugly Year.” Lots of crying, some yelling, a few objects being thrown…well, you get the idea. Suicide leaves behind an anger that I hope I never have to experience again. Then, year two turned into something I call the “Lonely Year.” There were lots and lots of tears, lots of listening to Norah Jones as I drove to Panera for soup just to get some time alone in the car to cry and cry (and still yell a bit too, if I am being honest!). There was the time I hit my head on an end table and had to drive myself to the ER as I held a towel to my bleeding head, screaming at Brian the whole time about why he ever thought it was OK to leave me behind with our two beautiful daughters, who were suffering as much, or even more, than I was. I always said it was like we were underwater in the first few years, but only one of us was able to get to land at a time. We honestly couldn’t help each other very much, as we were lost in the sea of suicide survivor grief. We were helpless in the depths of a hurricane.

But, then something happened. Each year that has passed has brought more peace and healing to our lives. The violent dreams have turned to dreams of Brian how he used to be, not how I found him or how he was when he had cancer. He laughs in the dreams now, and I laugh along with him. He looks healthy and strong and it is a gift to finally remember him that way.

HealingNow, on my anniversary or his birthday or March 10th, the day he died, I remember him with happiness. I don’t need to stay in bed all day the way I did the first couple of years. Oh, sure, we still get sad, but to be honest, I welcome the sadness; it is a testament to what I have lost. But, in getting lost for all those years during the healing, I have also found myself again, and for that I am thankful. I have healed, and I hope that wherever Brian is, he is healed too.

Happy anniversary, Brian. I’ll see you in my dreams…

Ms. Bear: What I’ve Learned As a Suicide Survivor

Suicide SurvivorIt’s no secret that my mom has a way of saying things that are at once both calming and reaffirming. She’s been through a lot, and yet, she remains the strongest woman I know. I’m so grateful to have her on the blog today sharing her wisdom and insight as a suicide survivor. She’s definitely one you want to have in your corner… xoxo

Sixteen years! Sixteen years? Sixteen years. No matter what type of punctuation follows those two little words, it is still unbelievable to me that I have been a widow for that long. When I was married at age 22, if anyone had told me I would be a widow at age 47, I never would have believed it. Actually, there are times I still can’t believe that much time has passed. I feel like I have some insight into what it is like to be a suicide survivor and I have learned so much about this process and about myself over all these years.

The first thing I learned is that living after a loved one’s suicide is survivable. When Brian first died, I remember thinking to myself that the girls and I would never make it. The girls seemed so fragile to me. Melissa had her physical challenges and Janelle had her mental health issues. We all had our issues with the suicide and the anger that it brought us. It was pretty ugly around our house for a couple of years. It seemed that one of us would be doing better, but the other two couldn’t respond because we were still feeling like we were underwater. Then the next day, the situation would be reversed. We were never all OK at the same time. It’s hard to show empathy to someone when you are drowning yourself.

I also learned that the grief of suicide can be too much for many people. I remember talking to various professionals and feeling that they had no clue! It’s one thing to read about suicide grief in school, but quite another to be facing someone across from you who is just a shell of a person. How do you help them? Sometimes the best you can do is just sit there. Oftentimes there were no words that could help. The biggest thing that helped me was hearing my therapist tell me, every week for 7 years, that I had been through a terrible trauma and that I had to deal with the trauma before I could face the grief. She was so right. There was a page in a book I read that saved my life, as I read it over and over… it was called ‘What to Do If You Found the Body‘ from the book “Healing Your Traumatized Heart” and explained the process people go through with a violent death.

So often in suicide, we gloss over the sheer horror of what survivors have experienced in favor of the more socially acceptable and sanitary stages of grief. “Oh, she’s in the anger stage” or “She’s depressed” instead of “She’s reliving finding the body every minute of every day.” Not everyone can hear what the survivors need to say.

Suicide SurvivorWe had to change psychiatrists several times. One cancelled an appointment on Melissa because she didn’t fill out the paperwork ahead of time. Seriously, she couldn’t even write her name and they wanted her to fill out a packet of papers! Another just couldn’t be supportive of us and sort of dropped us…never returned calls and that sort of thing, even as both the girls were in and out of the hospital with depression. We were so fragile that these incidents threw us into a tailspin. But, we knew we needed help and we finally found what we needed so the healing could begin.

Suicide survivors learn quickly who are safe people to talk to about their grief. But, in some cases, it takes longer to realize who is a safe person and who is not. It’s especially problematic when others are grieving the same loss that you are, only in their own way. Sometimes there is no resolution.
Suicide survivors should not be asked how their loved one died. If they want to talk about it, they will. Again, survivors have a keen sense of who is safe to share with and who is not.

Above all, never tell a suicide survivor how to grieve or how long they should grieve (this actually goes for any type of death). Never ask a widow if they are going to get married again. Never say their spouse was selfish for killing themselves. Never compare anyone’s grief to yours. All grief is painful and it is certainly not a contest!

What can you do for a suicide survivor? You can sit in silence. You can bring a meal. You can remember them on anniversaries, no matter how long it has been. You can tell them you are there for them, and then be there. You can be gentle with them if they are struggling. The best thing you can do for a suicide survivor (and anyone grieving) is to talk about the person they lost, use their name and share memories. These are the things I needed, and still need, after losing Brian.

Suicide SurvivorI am so thankful for all the safe people in my life. I couldn’t have made it without them! So, if you know a suicide survivor, strive to be that person that they know will be there for them, no matter what. It is a precious gift!