The fact that my Dad chose to end his life was one of the hardest concepts for me to grasp after his death. After talking with my counselor and reading books/articles about suicide, I’ve taken away that when my Dad decided considered suicide, it wasn’t because he did not want to live anymore, it was because he wanted to end his pain.
For months, I couldn’t even wrap my head around that idea. How could I when I didn’t know my Dad was struggling and in pain? I have never experienced depression before, so I couldn’t comprehend what he might have been going through.
I knew he loved my brother and me so much, and I just couldn’t understand how he could choose suicide without thinking of the implications of his actions and how they would impact the rest of our lives. I was mad. How could he not even think about what this would do to us? Three years prior we lost our Mom suddenly. He knew how horrible that was on our family and now he just made it worse.
I would get so upset every time a neighbor or family friend would tell me “your Dad loved you and Tommy so much…just remember that.” I don’t know if they thought that was a comforting statement, but to me it sure wasn’t. It made me feel worse. I didn’t care that my Dad loved me, I was mad that he made this choice without thinking about Tommy and me.
I borrowed a book about suicide from my counselor; I don’t remember the title or the author, but it was very psychology-filled with lots of statistics and data about suicide. I probably read half of it, but the one part that I remember the most was a chapter on how one defines suicide. In this chapter, they discussed the victims of the 9/11 World Trade Center bombings who jumped off the top floors to end their life. The book discussed that some people were questioning whether those people died by suicide or homicide. The next week when I met my counselor, I brought up that idea to her as I was very confused as to why people would think that the people that jumped out of the WTC committed suicide. My counselor said that she saw it as an analogy for suicide, that our loved ones who died had two options: to inevitably burn alive in the building, or end the pain even faster by jumping.
After processing that, it made so much more sense to me what my Dad was going through and how suicide was easier for him than to “burn alive” by the pain he was enduring.
Survivors of suicide may never be able to understand the weight of the pain our loved ones felt. And, we may never fully accept their decision. We often think about how their actions affected us and made our lives more difficult. To them, living on with a life of pain or choosing suicide is a lose-lose decision where the latter might feel like the easiest to navigate. I will never be able to understand the pain my Dad was in and how he felt so trapped, but this analogy helps shed light.
This post really resonates with me. Every time I put myself in my dad’s shoes I understand a little more about the pain he was in and why he chose to die. That is a really hard pill to swallow, but I do believe my dad made the conscious choice to end his life in a right mind, not of impulse, even though he most likely had a bit of depression.
Diana–I know what you mean, the more I think about my Dad and his pain, the sadder I get and the more I can understand his choice.
I read about your blog today in the Florida Times Union. My Dad committed suicide on Sept. 4, 2012. He was 80 years old and struggling with depression and the difficulty that comes with caretaking of my mother, who suffered from Alzhiemer’s. She died two days after my Dad. Your analogy of choices also reasonated with me. I have struggled with how he could have chosen to leave behind four children, nine grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. I also think the fear of death was overcome by the pain of living for him, but it is still difficult. We just spent our first family vacation without them, and it was difficult for all of us, but we are struggling through – I am also thinking of trying to find a grief group in my community. I have been so involved in handling estate affairs for both parents, I don’t think I have really had a chance to grieve until now. Thank you for your blog – reading others’ journeys is helpful.
Susan, I do struggle to comprehend how my Dad could have left my brother, husband and I–and all of his friends with his decision. That’s probably the hardest thing to try to comprehend, come to terms with, and then try to accept.
I would highly recommend a grief group, see if there are any specific in your area for suicide. If not a group, I would also recommend a counselor. I did both (one on one and group), and they really helped me a lot. I was also involved in settling the estate, and it’s hard to process emotions when you’re so concerned with what you need to get done. I know for me, right after we sold my Dad’s house is when I really started to grieve and get more emotional. Let me know if you find a group and decide to go.
I found your site from an arcticle in our local newspaper from the Chicago Tribune. I lost my dad on November 19, 2012 to suicide at the age of 62. He was also recently diagnosed with Pick’s disease, a form of Alzheimer’s. He also had anxiety & major depression. I found a great book immediately and read it in a couple days when I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d share it: Dying To Be Free by Beverly Cobain & Jean Larch. It sure helped me & hopefully can help other survivors also.
That was a great book, Erica. We are glad you found us here but are sorry to hear that you lost your father as well.
I really love this. Thank you for sharing! I can totally relate to you. My dad committed suicide 3 and a half months ago and it’s been a truly sucky time. My situation is a little more complicated and so the aftermath is challenging in a few different ways. I like to think of it this way; my dad was consumed by his own individual demons. Everyone has their demons, some of us just can’t conquer them. I don’t mean the paranormal demony things, it’s a metaphor, just in case that was confusing. But I believe 100% that somewhere inside of him, he came to the conclusion that this would set him free. I’m really happy for him, to be pain free, and I like to picture him soaring through the unknown, completely free in every way. I don’t know if that’s applicable to your dad and family situation, but it brings me peace to think of it in that way. All of you guys should check out this story! It reminded me of my dad a little, like I would picture him saying something similar if he left a note. http://gawker.com/i-am-sorry-that-it-has-come-to-this-a-soldiers-last-534538357 🙂
Thank you for writing this. My father committed suicide in 2009. It is Father’s day weekend and I miss him every moment of every minute, of ever hour of ever day. I don’t feel like I will ever understand it. I don’t think I will ever heal.
I was aware that my father made an attempt on his life before, but like everyone else who knew him and loved him, we thought he was getting better. From what we observed, his depression and anxiety was no longer paralyzing and he was re-connecting with family and friends. Even his psychiatrist days before he took his life said he looked the best he had ever seen him since his first breakdown the previous year. While he was hospitalized during his breakdown, we got a glimpse of how much pain he was truly suffering. I can only imagine if he started to sense those painful feelings coming on again, that ending his pain seemed like the only solution. Your “burning alive” analogy sounds very similar to how I am processing it. My Dad has only been gone a little over a month, but I was very aware of the pain he had felt in the past so maybe that knowledge has helped me process this part of it early on. Do I still raise the proverbial WHY? sometimes? Of course. But I think my knowledge of my Dad’s suffering in the last year of his life and the analogy of your “burning alive” has helped me.
Thank you for sharing your story Emily. It is difficult for those who have not been touched by suicide to understand the magnitude of the pain that our loved ones felt. I am so sorry for your loss.
Lifes been so hard…. I contemplate both my sorry ass life and what ive believed to be my only way out since I was 14- suicide- almost daily.
I recently saw the Phyllis Hyman unsung episode, and it made me wonder if, for now im strong enuff-barely- to fight the ills of my life and the crushing notion that perhaps this is the best its ever gonna be. But maybe, like Phyllis, I toocshall lose this battle in time.
That scares me.
We are so sorry that you are stuck in your pain. We highly recommend reaching out to a family member or friend, a therapist or calling the national suicide hotline at 1 (800) 273-8255. There is always another way.