Four Years Later (The Continuing Aftermath of Suicide)
I want to say that it’s a little better with each passing year, and it is…but marginally. I still get taken aback by the rush of grief that spills into my daily routine, unannounced and unwelcomed.
The tears still sting and the ache in my heart really isn’t any less. It’s just less often. There are daily reminders of his existence on earth and in my life; I’m grateful for them and accept them with grace. He still is and always will be: the one that got away. Only his ‘away’ was pretty horrific.
I’ve built up my life around softness, empathy and understanding. Yes, I still have a wonderful (forever) man in my life. He’s not going anywhere and for that, I’m so, so, happy. He’s my rock and grounds me to this earth when my spirit wants nothing more than to fly away.
Today is the 4th anniversary of THAT day. That terrible, horrid, worst-day-of-my-life, day – and, once again, it will all come crashing down around me. It’s okay; I always prepare. The lead-up, however, is easier, this year. I don’t go over old emails and texts from him, still looking for some clue that I should have known this would happen.
Thankfully, I’ve stopped that. It’s pointless, really. A little torturous, too because I used to think if I only did one more thing, or did something differently...he would have stayed.
I was so inexperienced with his mental illness, so new in our relationship, so in-love and so terrified. I don’t think there was anything different I could have done, given the tools (and lack of) that I had at the time. I simply didn’t know how or what to do – other than to do everything in my power to be there, be present, love him, do what I could to keep him safe and then…have faith that he’d stay.
He didn’t. But we all know our story didn’t end well.
I want to tell it. REALLY tell it; it’s quite a love story, after all. A tragic, messy, funny, sad – love story. I’m almost ready, but not quite.
I still miss him, and I know that we all do – all of us that he touched. There were many.
I’m not the only one grieving and I know there are so many others. Others like us who understand the depths of suicide grief and it’s never ending inky blackness and the massive deep hole it creates in our lives. It really feels like a part of you died with that person. And as you constantly struggle with trying to understand…
Somewhere in a gentle and loving stillness, there is forgiveness. Not just for them, but for us. For not being able to save them, for not being there, for being angry, for so many things, I’ve lost count.
Forgive yourself. You, who travel this road of sorrow, with me. You did all you could; they know that. HE knows that. A choice was made that wasn’t ours to make or judge.
My story has carried on, but I can still tell his in the best and most loving way that I can. We can still honour their lives here and in the Afterlife.
I’ve learned SO much and continue to grow with this experience. It will walk with me, until I walk into the light. I’ll always advocate for understanding and to end the stigma, the secrecy and the embarrassment. The finger-pointing, the judgement and the ignorance that comes attached to suicide – both for those who’ve taken their lives and for us who are still on Earth; I has to stop.
Let’s replace them with: Love, Compassion, Understanding, Openness, Communication & Kindness.
Right here. Right now.
In love & Light,