When my grandparents moved to BC in the '30's they brought along furniture and I have two of the old wooden chairs. I've refinished them and they are beautiful. Michael used one of these last year when he took his life and I am torn between wanting to smash it into tiny pieces, and putting it where no one can ever sit on it again to avoid damaging it. I know my daughters and grandchildren will not want this chair, but right now I do. In the end, I don't want anyone else to have it - it was my grandparent's chair, then mine, and finally, it was Michael's chair.
Walking this morning, I listened to Michael's playlist and there is a song which speaks of waiting for an angel to take someone home, because they don't want to go alone. In my heart I see my son, asking his angel to come soon, changing his clothes, fashioning the noose, and stepping up on that chair, trusting it wouldn't be long before he was taken home. Maybe this is morbid talk is it? It is the reality of what goes through my head daily, sometimes hourly.
The grief of a loss to suicide is made so much worse by the knowledge (and in my case) understanding of the unbearable sadness, hopelessness, and loneliness the lost person has endured. Can you imagine how terrible life must be, in the heart and soul of that person, that leaving this earth FOREVER, is the only option they can see?
I knew my son was serious about taking his life. But deep down inside I hung onto a tiny thread of hope that we could save him. He would not go to the hospital (they won't take patients only feeling at risk. I would not call the police (charging a suicidal person is no help) and an ambulance will not attend without the police. I prayed. I bargained. But Michael had reached his point of no return.
Over this past eleven months I have come to realize that there is so very little understanding of, or even compassion for, suicide. How I wish I could change that. People assume that suicidal talk is attention-seeking behaviour. They are right. So, please, pay attention. Listen, hold, don't wait to be the angel that takes a person to his final home. Please be the angel here on earth. Suicidal really IS preventable. I believe this, but it takes more than one or two people to help someone in crisis.
Each day that we get closer to the anniversary of Michael's death is harder. I am frustrated and angry, not with individuals, but with systems and beliefs. One Sunday, only weeks before my son killed himself, I asked someone at church to please keep Michael in the prayers of the people. At this point, Michael was threatening suicide daily, and frequently self-harming. This person, actually said to me, "That's just bull**** - it is so cowardly." I'm sure that was said to show sympathy for me, but I felt so alone.
Michael, I miss you so. I will fight for you until my end. I love you.
1 comment:
Andrea, there are none of us who can find the right words to help with your pain because there are so few of us who could begin to comprehend what you are going through. Your blog is morbid - so, what's wrong with that? Use what you need to get through each day, silence, music, blogging, crying, holding on, laughing. . . whatever! It's yours to get through any way you can find. Just know there are many of us here to listen, sit, drink tea with or evey cry. Let us know when we're what you need.
Love, Roxanne
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