To My Children,
Seven years ago today a teenager, three days shy of his sixteenth birthday, was hurting. He felt so much pain that he chose to end it in the only way he could. On a weekend when his parents were away he gathered up some bedsheets, went downstairs into the laundry room, tied a noose, and hung himself. This teenager was your Dad’s brother. Your Uncle E.
The shock of E’s suicide and the subsequent grief has had far reaching effects on our family. Death is always shocking. Even when it’s expected, loss is always unfathomable. But suicide adds a whole other level of of grief. The family and friends of the deceased grieve over the fact that they failed to see it coming, that they weren’t able to help their loved one out of the darkness in which they were trapped. Some religious people believe suicide to have eternal implications and that kind of fear and guilt can be overwhelming for many who lose someone to self-inflicted death.
We have struggled with how to resolve feelings of anger and helplessness. We have questioned and we have spoken many “what if’s” into the night. Ultimately, it was out of our hands and we have had to accept that. But if there is one thing that I want to come from this tragedy, one thing that I demand from the universe, is that my children will know, without a doubt, these things:
First, suicide is selfish. This is perhaps a controversial thing to say, in light of the fact that most people who commit suicide are suffering from terrible depression. But you must understand that if you take your own life to relieve your pain, you do so at the expense of the suffering of many others. How many? That may not be known until after you are gone. And the pain, guilt, fear, and anger that your family suffers goes on for the rest of their lives. Should you ever feel that death is the only out for you, I beg you to remember that this kind of selfishness is hard for those left behind to forgive. It is not impossible. But it is very hard.
Second, depression runs in your family on both sides. Many family members have experience varying degrees of this illness. You have a genetic predisposition. I hope you never have this struggle, but if you do, you need to know that you will never find judgment from us. Only acceptance and support. You must never feel that it is something to be ashamed of, any more than any other physical illness. It is biology and chemistry, not weakness. You need to treat it appropriately. Be kind to yourself and try to be patient. If you require medication, accept it willingly. Accept the help of medical professionals, family and friends. Do what it takes to be healthy. If this disease attacks you young, the way it did E, I hope you will come to us and ask us for help. I hate the thought of you in pain, but even more, I hate the thought of you suffering without our love and support. We will always, always be there to help you.
Third, your father and I will do anything it takes to help you, regardless of the cost. If there are problems at school we will work with you and your teachers to make it better. If it means changing schools, homeschooling, moving, we will do what it takes. Those scenarios are dramatic. But I want you to know that we are committed to you more than anyone else. We are committed to your happiness. Completely committed. If you need us to help you with something that’s too big for you to face alone, we will be there. We will help you find help. We will help you get healthy. We will help you find your footing in life.
Fourth, you need to know that high school is short. I don’t say this to minimize what happens in those years because although the years may pass quickly, the days may be agonizingly slow, especially if you are unhappy. I know the ghosts of adolescence haunt many of us for the rest of our lives and although I hope the majority of yours are happy ones, I’m not naive enough to believe that everyone has that experience. I will do everything I can to help you through it smoothly, but in the times when it gets bumpy, I hope you will remember that those days are only a few drops in the ocean. There will come a day when you will swim in a much bigger pond and have the opportunity to meet more people who are just like you, who share the same interests and goals. I hope you make friends like that in high school, but if you don’t, I hope you remember that there are lots of people out there like you. They just may not be within your grasp yet.
Fifth, as a teenager you may sometimes feel that you do not have enough control. I hope to be able to give you the freedom and independence you will need. But I can’t control many things, just as you can’t. Neither of us can control the way others treat us. Neither of us can control the unfair judgments the world places on us. Neither of us are able to control the currents of growth, the rapids of friendship, the eddies of circumstance. But you have the ability to control your existence. You can choose to end your life. But you can’t bring it back again once it’s gone. I can’t control accidents or disease or death and ultimately, I can’t control your choices. That choice is sacred and I hope you will use it well.
And finally, know that your father and I hope to see you make many wonderful choices, to direct your own path as you choose. We look forward to knowing the people you will become. We try to prepare for your disappointments just as we anticipate your successes. But we will always be thankful that you are here. We will always hope that you continue to choose to be here. And we will always love you.
Love
Your Mom
April 22nd, 2008 at 3:40 pm
Oy, I wish you lived closer so I could give you a hug. Powerful words.
April 22nd, 2008 at 8:10 pm
I know my experience really can’t compare to your family’s… You guys lost someone so close…
We to lost a family member (my cousin) to mental illness this past winter. There was a strange moment when all of us cousins were sitting around talking after the funeral like we usually do (though much more muted than usual) at family gatherings. Suddenly we all stopped and felt his absence at the same time. I can’t imagine what this feels like when it’s someone so much closer. For us our family gatherings will always be tainted by the absence. For his immediate family, that sense will be there almost constantly.
I remember you guys during that time. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you. But I can tell you that we haven’t forgotten you went through that.
April 22nd, 2008 at 11:33 pm
This is such a good post.
April 23rd, 2008 at 9:15 am
powerful & eloquent.
I am comforted with the thought that others have a grasp of the same emotional issues I was feeling since then.
May 1st, 2008 at 12:54 am
Your kids are lucky to have a mom like you who is already so open with them about such a hard reality.
August 1st, 2008 at 10:22 am
Tough stuff. But a good exercise to ask one’s self: how might I communicate this to children?
Sorry to read about E. So young to make such a choice.
August 1st, 2008 at 1:07 pm
We have struggled with how to best communicate this to our children. Right now they are too young to know anything other than that Daddy’s brother died. We hope to have an open dialogue about the circumstances surrounding his death as they grow older. Especially to help them understand the implications of suicide and it’s affect on the people that surround them. And also to help them recognize factors that lead to suicide so that they can be aware of changes in their own lives that may be starting down that path. We truly hope that we can be open enough with our kids that they will be able to talk about things with us and we will have the opportunity to get them help and to show our love and support for them, should they ever need it.
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