On the evening of December 27, 2011, my father was sitting at his desk in his childhood home. He heated up leftover lasagna and ate it while he typed an email to his best friend notifying him that he had decided to take his life. He sent his friend a text stating, “Please check your email.” When my father’s friend replied, “Rob, I do not see an email” and did not receive a response, he drove to my father’s house only to find the email still sitting on his computer, and my father laying on the floor with a gunshot wound to the head. He sat next to my father and told him to “Find God” and held his hand as my father took his last breath. These were my father’s last minutes in the house he grew up in (which also was sentimental to me because it was my grandmother’s home).
I tell this story, not to give you a detailed description of my father’s last moments, but to help define my feelings related to my grandmother’s house. As of yesterday, her home is on the market – a home that both she and my grandfather lived in and raised my father. Her home meant so much to me; it was my favorite place to be. My grandmother was the most charismatic and warm woman I have ever known. You could not help but be happy when you were with her, and in her home. I spent a great deal of time in this house and have memories that are near and dear to me. I was so close to my grandmother, that I named my daughter after her. Annabelle Sarafina; Annabelle being my husband’s grandmother, and Sarafina being mine. If I can offer my daughter the same love that I was given by my grandmother, then she will know the meaning of unconditional love. Unfortunately, Annabelle will not meet her great-grandma, as she passed away in 2010.
It is difficult to not let my father’s last act destroy my memories, as he choose to take his life in my grandmother’s home. Nothing about that house is the same now. The first time I went into the home after my father’s death, I was so on edge. It was like walking into a haunted house. The place that I once thought of as my safe haven was now a place that I feared walking in to. I felt so much anger at my father for not only leaving this world in the manner that he did, but taking away the place that I cherished the most. I could not wait to clean out the house and sell it to someone else.
I thought that the minute the house was placed on the market, I would feel a sense of relief. Finally, I could close a chapter and would not have to return to that home. Yet instead, I now feel a new sense of loss. It saddens me that I will not be able to walk through that home with my daughter, or show her the backyard that I spent hours playing in. I won’t be able to tell her stories of her great-grandmother and the time that we spent together in that home. A new found anger came to me as I felt that my father took something else away from me when he decided to take his life.
My Grandmother’s Home
Selling a house after death is so bittersweet. I still feel conflicted about the sale of my grandmother’s home. Not selling it won’t take that away. This is what makes death by suicide so different than a natural death – the mix of feelings that come about when you least expect them. Sure, I still miss my grandmother when I think about her and wish she were still here; however, I am not angry at her, as I do not feel that she took anything from me away. It is just different, and only a survivor is able to understand.
I know that I will continue to feel a mix of emotions throughout the years. What’s important is that I allow myself to feel, and allow myself to process the emotions as I experience them, for it not only makes me human, but makes further increases the strength that I have within.
Are there any situations or events that have triggered emotions since the loss of your loved one? How did you cope?
Our mother took her own life a month ago tomorrow. She had suffered from depression for over 15 years and had made three other attempts in the past. She was the kindest, sweetest and most gentle soul who loves her children, grandchildren and family more than anything. Taking care of others was what have her joy. She had recently had ECT treatments and after a horrible experience with this in a hospital and then a few weeks of being foggy she miraculously was happier and more full of life than we had seen her in years. I joked with her “what have you done with my mom” when she suddenly got an iPhone, and atatted texting is and even adding heart emojis. And signing “mom” to every text! She was like this for over six months and continued to see her therapist, take medication, go to church…but she was also cooking and making friends and writing her grandchildren and just living her life. She had a brief period where she said she felt “low” again and then about a month ago she starting feeling anxious again, but continued to keep doing things and nowhere near the cycling down that always preceded the other attempts and we honestly did not see this coming. I am not far enough along in the grieving process to feel like I can share anything that might be helpful to anyone else at this point but am so grateful for websites and posts we have read. The honesty and sharing has helped to validate and comfort me. It never feels ok, but reading these keep my mind from going where it doesn’t need to. I searched over and over to find a post that dealt with how to deal with having to mover her things out by next week and no longer having a safe place to go that is our mom. It feels wrong and too soon but she was in an independent living apartment and the fees are too high so we had decided to just pay for one More month but that is in a week and seems far too soon and this is too raw. We also have kids in college who have not had time to be there and grieve and say goodbye. This post (sorry such a long message to finally get to this) is only one I could find and it helped. If anyone has any other suggestions or resources we would appreciate hearing. We have therapists but cannot see them before the move. I just cannot imagine how we will do with this. Our hearts are just broken. I hope in the future we are able to share our stores and do ANYTHING we can to help even one person dealI got with this as a survivor … Or reaching out to anyone who has given up hope to say that we understand and that you do matter. Thank you for listening.
We’re so sorry for your loss but are glad to hear you have found some comfort in our posts. Packing up a loved one’s things was one of the hardest parts of the loss. It forced us to acknowledge “this” happened and isn’t temporary. I think it’s helpful to do as a family (or not alone) and try to find ways to reminisce about the memories of the person and the things, even though that can be easier said… Therapy also will help when that time comes. Maybe even selecting a few trinkets that mean the most to each person to keep in memory… I don’t know if there will ever feel like a right time to do this.
Thank you, Becky. It felt a little like throwing out a question into the universe last night and the fact that you responded at all was comforting. I think your last line was the message we needed to hear. It’s like asking over and over expecting for someone to have the magic answer that will make this ok. I read that and knew that we just have to do this together as a family and it can’t possibly get worse…and then we will deal with our emotions as the come up.
Today within about a span of 30 minutes there were 5 signs in a row that let us know without a doubt that she wanted us to know she is ok and I felt like my world shifted. It wouldn’t sound believable if I put it into words, but I hope to one day share this. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of this place to share while we walk through this.
Thank you.