As a survivor, I think it can be hard to not allow your loved ones’ final act to trump the life that they lived. For it is that last act that caused us the pain that we feel in the present. Com
bine that with the stigma and shame of suicide and suddenly the memories that occurred before their death become a distant memory. I love talking about my dad. It reminds me of the time we had prior to his death. It reminds me of who I am, and where I came from. Sometimes when I speak about my dad, people join in. Other times, the room becomes silent. I have learned to not care, and to not allow others to dictate when I can and can’t talk about my dad. Did he die by suicide, yes, but he lived a hell of a life before that. Spend time talking about the life your loved one lived prior to their death. For that life is what matters the most.
Thank you for writing about this. I really struggle with this and not perseverating on that final act. This is a good reminder that it is important to look at the whole picture of our time together.
Jessica,
I am fascinated by your statement “I have learned to not care”. When we survivors talk about our loved one(s) who died by suicide, it IS so common that “the room becomes silent”.
I, too, don’t want to “allow others to dictate when I can and can’t talk” about my son. But my dilemma is that I actually don’t want to talk about my son (and/or my father) to anyone who doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say about them. If I was talking to a mirror, the air, or a wall, I wouldn’t be upset about not being ‘heard’. But if I am talking to a person, I absolutely expect interest, courtesy and regard. If those traits aren’t present (and they usually aren’t!), then my perception and thoughts are that this person does not deserve to be told about my precious loved one.
My son and father both ended their life by suicide – son 2009, father 1982. Years of grief have been coupled with years of astonishment, and anger, at the reactions of others.
When I talk about my son, the room generally becomes silent for a very brief awkward moment, and then someone quickly changes the subject. This leads me to think “Really? I just spoke about the most important person in my life. I wonder if you even care about him or me.” I have rarely actually said this. I’m usually so stunned and sad that I can’t utter any words without sobbing. But, if I’m feeling especially bold or angry, I show a disgusted facial expression. My disgust is SO obvious and if they continue talking about their ‘changed subject’, I then show non-verbally (eyebrow raise, hand gesture) that I have NO interest in the subject they are now speaking. My expressions are so obvious, that this generally turns into the person asking “What’s wrong?”, which prompts a shocked expression from me and I say “What’s wrong? You ignore when I talk about my son. What do YOU think is wrong?” At this point, the person is uncomfortably apologizing and looking for the quickest exit!
This method certainly doesn’t fix the actual problem, but doing so empowers me. This also helps me determine who is really my friend. Few genuine friends, for sure! If I just “learned to not care”, I’m not sure how that would remedy this dilemma for me.
What you wrote, hits close to home. When I say, “learned to not care” I mean that I do not allow others to dictate when I can and can’t talk about my dad. I no longer worry what others will think. Don’t get me wrong, I am still bothered by those who make me feel out of place, when I bring up my dad. The silence, is a response to their inability to know how to respond. I honestly blame this on society and the stigma that still surrounds both mental illness and suicide. I often wonder how they would respond if my dad died of cancer. Would they join in the conversation? Would they allow me to talk more freely? At the end of the day, you are correct and I agree with your statement, “my perception and thoughts are that this person does not deserve to be told about my precious loved one.” In the aftermath of our tragedy, we truly discover who we can and can’t depend on.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings! One of the things I took away from therapy after my son died is this: His life was so much more than those final few moments when he ended his life.
I had a really hard time getting past that. Still do at times. However, I love reminiscing about happier times. I love remembering his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, his great big hugs. It seems as though so many are uncomfortable talking about my son because they just don’t know what to say. If we, meaning suicide survivors, continue to talk and speak out, perhaps we can change the stigma. I don’t know. But my son did exist, and I will not act otherwise. Thank you, again.
Pam
Pam, thank you for sharing. I completely agree…talking will help end the stigma. It can be exhausting, feeling like you are constantly educating the world about what suicide truly is; a result of years of mental pain. I will also continue to talk about my dad to honor his memory and the person he was!
Great post!! I love the picture of the father and son on the golf course. As you know this is my first summer without my dad. Each round of golf I have played this summer I have wonderful memories of the good times we shared together. I will be 40 in a few months and he introduced to the game when I was 8. I hear his voice on a good shot. I hear his voice on a bad shot. It makes me sad when I think that I will never actually create new memories with him but makes me smile when sharing stories about the good times we had.
Just the other I birdied #14 and I heard him going, “tweet, tweet, tweet.” Which is what he did after anyone birdied a hole.
Great story! Don’t ever stop telling them!
I lost grandson to suicide in 2010. I understand what you are talking about!! I have been trying to get my church to start a survivor of suicide group!! Just mentioning it shuts the people down!! We have a grief support and I went to it for 3 an1/2 years but until I went to a SUPPORT GROUP FOR SUICIDE SUVIVORS DID I FINALLY GET ACCEPTES BECUASE SUICIDE IS SO DIFFERENT FROM ANYOTHER TYPE OF DEATH. UNLESS YOU HAVE EXPERINCED IT YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND HOW IT FEELS. So I share your post on facebook to help others!!
I am so happy that the support group has been helpful for you. Thank you for sharing the post!
I am so sorry that others have experienced the silence. I guess I find myself very fortunate that all of my family and friends have never made me feel awkward about talking about my Dad, and I’ve had generally the same experience with my coworkers too. In fact, we talk about him all of the time. I hope someday the stigma of suicide fades into the distance so everyone has the same responses that I have been so fortunate to have; love, empathy and joy in sharing a walk down memory lane with my Dad.
Indeed! I totally agree. The life we shared with them was a blessing and their time with us should always be remembered and celebrated.
ABSOLUTELY! My favorite quote from my shrink after my son died was “Try to focus on his life. His life was so much more than those final few moments when he made that terrible decision. His life was so much more than his death.” Keep talking, and keep sharing. Thank you for your posts.
This a tough one for me. I’m glad you brought the subject up. It is 27 months since my husband too his life.
I alternate between loving him and hating him. Mostly I just miss him so very much. He was a fantastic person although like us all he had issues. I talk about him whenever I feel like it but it can be difficult when I get that deer in headlights look after I share he died by suicide. Sometimes, it makes me so sad to think of our good times. I will never be the same. This impacted my daughters and me so profoundly that of coarse it does prevent those wonderful memories from coming out. I found him so that image is always there although dimming with time. I will always love and miss him and I will keep trying to let those good memories win me over.
My husband took his life on Father’s Day 2013. I am now being coming part of a group to change the stigma. Recognize the signs (if there are any) and speak up! Love this. http://www.changedirection.org!!!!!!
Mental illness of any kind should not be shameful. Help change the stigma.
Thank you so much for posting this. My dad also committed suicide at the age of 75. It hits home what you said. I so cherish the years I had with him. His struggle was my struggle as well,I do sometimes feel I have failed him as I did not save him. I find comfort in your word. Thank you.
I thank you for your post. I lost my dad at the age of 75. His struggles were my struggles as well. I sometimes feel I have failed him,or I could not save him. I did have so many wonderful years with him. Thank you for reminding me. Your message brings me comfort.
I feel the same way about my daughter Stephanie, whom I lost to suicide in 2010.
Another awesome reminder and positive tool for us all! Thanks Jessica
In Gratitude,
Kimberle
I lost my 19 year old Son to suicide 10 years after my 38 year old brother took his life. My Mom was my lifeline to them both. I couldn’t talk to anyone else without making them feel uneasy…..she knew my pain…..she felt my pain, God knows I wished she didn’t. Now she too is gone and I feel so alone. I miss them sooo much. Tomorrow is my Son’s Angelversary.
Hi Jessica, thankyou for the recent post. After losing and finding my 20 year old son to suicide in November 2015 I realised that not even a friend I have had for almost 20 years had time to listen to me talk about my loss. I am lucky I have othet friends who do and I do try to look at the positive impression he left with the people left behind to survive the heartache. Love this forum. Keep up the great work.
I talk about my son Mike to anyone who will listen. He was sweet, kind, smart, funny, handsome, generous and missed. I miss him saying “I love you, momma” I miss cooking for him, he was so wanted and so loved and I want him not to be defined by the choice he made to end his life. I have always said I want my kids to be happy. If this was the only way he felt he could find the happiness and peace that eluded him, then I will learn to live with this crippling pain in my heart and soul.