Suicide...Passing on the Pain

I understand that my husband was in a lot of mental anguish when he took his own life.  His note to me told me I'd be better off without him and that I would find someone better than him to spend my life with.  These things are so untrue it makes me angry sometimes that he could even think it was okay to write that to me.  As if the kids and I could just move on easily without him. The sun rises on a better tomorrow?  No, our lives stopped the day he died.  It was some time before we could start moving forward again. Occasionally my life slows to a crawl as I process or reprocess the most difficult steps of grieving.

Taking your own life may stop your pain on this earth, but it causes a lifetime of pain for all the people who love you. You may feel deep down that everyone will be better off without you, but they absolutely will not be. You will mark them for life.  Eventually, they will begin to heal and move forward, but they will never be the same and they will always carry the loss with them. If you love them, and even if you can no longer feel the love you know is there, please don't do that to them.

For those who think I cannot possibly understand what it is like to feel as if the only answer to end the pain is taking your own life, I have been there and it is not something I am proud of. My friend Shantelle has shared with me how she has felt as she has faced the dark pull of suicide. She has helped me see things from a different perspective and it has given me some peace to know he was not trying to hurt me. It fascinates me that since Richard's death, I have contemplated ending my own pain.  After I have watched first hand the devastation that occurs like a ripple in a lake from such a destructive action. I have been so close it has terrified me that my mind could even go there. Except for once, what always pulled me back from the edge was my children. The exception was a particularly painful night when I laid in my bed sobbing in pain. I won't go into the details of that night except to say that in the morning when I awoke, I realized that through all the terrible pain, I had not thought of the kids at all. I now surround myself with reminders of them.  I carry their pictures with me. The truth as I hope and pray it to be, is I could never, EVER do that to them. I work hard to be sure I never get that close again(I will write more about that later).  So to anyone thinking that suicide is the answer, I want you to know just a bit of what it has done to my children and myself.

Dear Husband,

Your suicide ripped through our lives like a bomb, shattering our sense of comfort and peace. If you could be in our lives one day, seemingly fine and then be gone the next by your own choice, we were vulnerable to any unforeseen tragedy.

I sat with your children, one of each side of me.  They were confused that a neighbor had picked them up from school so early in the day and brought them home, without telling them why.  The heartbreak on their faces when I had to tell them you were gone was one of the hardest things I have ever had to witness.  And how do you say the words?  There is nothing you can tack onto the end to make it all okay.  I ached for them as I struggled with handling my own shattered emotions.

Although we talked about your passing often, it wasn't until several months later that your sweet teenaged daughter told me she felt it was her fault.  She said she knew you had been sad and was going to ask if you were okay. But she didn't.  And she felt responsible.  What could I say?  Had she asked, you would have lied and said you were fine. And she would have believed you, because you were that good at covering your true emotions. I could absolutely relate to her feelings though, because I also struggle with feelings that I could have or should have done more.  Even though I stuck with you after your actions hurt me again and again.  I told you that you were worth it to me, that our family was worth it.  I would have been there by your side if you could have just trusted me. But you didn't.  You could not share the deep pain you felt with me.  That leaves me feeling that I was unworthy of your trust and love; that I was somehow lacking as a wife.

You have no idea the pain it caused me to sit at the bank, asking about your account, only to have the service rep read your death certificate and ask if you were in a hunting accident, then read that it was suicide and tell me how selfish you were. It was a slap in the face. People can be cruel and people can be ignorant.  But it was your actions that opened me up to such a vulnerable position.

Find someone else you said. As much as I hate to think of the rest of my life alone, could I ever really trust someone with my heart again? You broke me time and time again, but I loved you, I stayed with you. I stayed with you, but you could not stay with me. To love is to open yourself up to the possibility of one of the worst pains there is. If I wasn't good enough to keep you here, how could I be good enough for anyone? Could I survive the conflicted feelings of loving another? Could I survive being hurt yet again?

Nine months after you died I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  There I was without you, my best friend.  Friends stepped up and helped me, but it wasn't the same as having the comfort of your love and encouragement.  I went through three surgeries, chemotherapy, many trips to the ER, and radiology without you by my side, waking up alone in hospitals, sleeping in our bed alone, feeling miserable without someone there to encourage me to keep going. I remember having such a high fever, but I was shivering so hard I could not get up for extra blankets. You should have been there with me, keeping me warm. This year has brought more health issues and I have had procedures done all by myself.  Sitting all alone in a waiting room, laying all alone on a gurney, waking up alone. Feeling so very alone. And all the while struggling to provide for the children, both financially and emotionally.

A year after your death, your sweet son became very ill and lost a lot of weight.  He wasn't eating well and he had so little energy.  It took almost a year to determine what was causing him to be so sick. I took him to specialists in Salt Lake.  Without you. He is doing much better now, but I am told they are not certain what brought on this disease.  It could very well be stress that triggered its beginning. Your sweet son had to go through all this without his father by his side. And I, without my husband.

Father's day is hard for us all.  So much joy and celebrating fathers. My children long for the good times when you were here with us.  Father/daughter dances and activities.  Father/son campouts.  And so much more.  All have to be discussed carefully because your children no longer have a father to love and support them.

Who am I kidding, all holidays are hard. I'd prefer to ignore them all. But I must keep up traditions with the kids because it is what they need no matter how painful I find them to be.  They need stability and I try desperately to give it to them. It is exhausting but they are worth it.

I learned at a Wellness Fair last month that myself and the children are now at a higher risk for suicide ourselves.  I suppose you helped us plant that seed.  I will be vigilant in watching the kids closely and we will discuss suicide openly. I will do everything I can to protect them and keep them safe.

I am so very weary.  I miss holding your hand. I miss your hugs. I miss the long talks we had together. I miss our future dreams.  I miss your smile. I miss being your wife. I miss feeling loved and important. I even miss being at your side to help you battle your depression and addiction.  I miss you.

-Your loving wife

Please, please, if you are suicidal, find help. Call a friend, Call a hotline (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Phone Number 1-800-273-8255), call me, text me, email me. I don't care if I know you or not, you are an important part of this world and I would love to remind you of that. I don't judge those who walk in darkness. I pray that you will soon see the beautiful light again. I want you to know you are not alone. (Amylloomis@gmail.com)