We love hearing from other survivors as it gives further insight into how death by suicide impacts others. Thank you Natalie – a fellow LOSS participant – for opening up and sharing your experience with us. We are honored to share your words with our readers.
Written by: Natalie Karnik
Prior to one of the monthly LOSS meetings that I attend, a reoccurring thought came back to me. My father and I were very close, so sometimes my mind wanders to what exactly was going through his mind in the days and weeks (did it go all the way back to months?) before he took my mother’s life and then his own in August of 2012.
My brother and I have come to a pretty solid conclusion that this was not a mutual decision between our parents. We knew our mother was in silent agony, battling depression and bipolar disorder. We did everything in our power to try and help her “out” of it, but there was that invisible yet, oh-so-strong barrier of mental illness that stole her from us, and us from her. My father was, without a doubt, her primary care taker, the one person who knew the most about what she was suffering through. This had its toll on him.
My father didn’t leave a suicide note, or a letter. Unfortunately, I never got to hear or read any last words. I know this is something many survivors face. Instead, from Texas, he sent me a package to Chicago (which arrived the day after my brother found them, and the day I arrived in Texas). There were significant pieces of jewelry, their wedding rings, and a username for an account on a small piece of cardboard. Sometimes I wish that he would have confided in me, since we were so close. I wish he would have told me what was going through his mind during the time leading up to their deaths, though I know that it probably would have given me great angst and fear. I believe they call this stage “negotiation,” maybe in an attempt to find some sort of closure. I decided to ask the people at the LOSS meeting about this. Did your loved one leave a note, a card, or a letter? If you happen to go back and read it, does it bring any sense of understanding? Essentially, how do a loved one’s last words affect you? The responses I got were quite insightful.
What I heard was that a letter may have been written by a loved one, but it reflected the troubled, hurt state he was in, rather than his true, vibrant self. He wrote the letter, but it wasn’t him. A loved one left a short note, which only led the survivor to question “is that all you have to say to me”? Perhaps you owe me more of an explanation. Listening to these responses, I realized that there is no letter, note or card that will make the loss any less difficult to deal with. My father was never big on card or letter writing – my mother was the champion of that department. So when I need to hear their voices or read their words, I turn to her thoughtfully written cards, sent not just on birthdays but on Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day (her favorite!), and…just because. My father was a man of few (written) words, and they were always clever and brought a smile to my face. These tokens of love and thought remind me of the life we shared together. The four of us: me, my brother, Mom and Dad. So in a sense, I can choose their last words. Actually, they don’t have any. To me, they keep on talking.
Thank you , David, for your comments. It truly is an indescribable anguish to let one’s mind wander down the path of “should I have acted differently? Would it have made a difference?” I think the phone calls, although no words were spoken, speaks wonders of what you meant to your friend. I think we are all an important presence in our loved ones lives, and that they know that too. Maybe we can take a little comfort in knowing that we do mean a great deal to them, even in their darkest of hours.
Also charging for health care that is not being provided, over charging, double billing, over or under medicating, diagnosing and treating non-existing medical conditions.
While some advisors admit that hospitals really should be more cautious when controlling patients, most doctors suggest that quite often, patients and their families actively intervene along the way of treatment and really should be held responsible for their actions. Nonverbal emotional
abuse can take the form of ignoring pleas for help (this also falls in the neglect category)
Thank you for the site, I just stumbled across it today. I lost my Dad to suicide 7/10/2013, the first year anniversary is creeping up and I”m in a downward spiral.
He left a note, short and vague. I was one of those people who thought “really Dad, after 68 years of living, kids, grandkids, family, friends that is all you could say to us?” As this year has rolled on, I have started to think that he said, in that note, everything he had to say…he apologized, asked for forgiveness from us and god, wrote he hated himself (that was the toughest part of the note) and his demon (alcohol) had won. There really wasn’t anything else to say, and I think if he would have addressed each one of us, he would not have gone thru with it that day, another day perhaps but he just would have prolonged his suffering. That said without a note I probably could have convinced myself it was a horrible accident, the note was proof of the horrible reality of his suicide.
Lori, I am so happy that you found our site and do hope that you find comfort and support. Anniversaries have never been easy for me either. The first year I was blessed to find out that I was pregnant with my first daughter. News that a new life beginning right around the time that a life was lost brought me such comfort. This past year was much more difficult. Becky, Lindsay and myself all do different things to honor our fathers on the day of their passing. My sister and I lit a candle together at the time of his death. We said a prayer and sat in silence for awhile. I encourage you to spend the day with people who are supportive and help bring a smile to your face. Remember that anniversaries do not have to be spent in sadness. Try to spend the day doing what you want to do to honor or grieve your father.
I have found that most notes left behind by loved ones are short and to the point. My father wrote an email to his friend notifying him that he was going to take his life. He briefly wrote about my sister and I simply saying, “they will want to be notified.” I was so angry at him for not leaving me more. My sister and I were both so angry at him for leaving us….how could he not want to watch his granddaughters (my sisters two kids) grow up, or meet my future children? What I have come to realize is that people who take their life do not think about the future. They can not see past the pain of the present. They often see themselves as a burden to those that they love. They view their act as the only way to end their pain, often thinking that they are doing us all a favor. This can be so difficult for those left behind as we battle with guilt. Why didn’t I show him I loved him? Why didn’t I call more and tell him how much I needed him? The “why’s” are endless. But at the end of the day, there is likely little that we could have done to change how they viewed themselves and the world. This is an extremely difficult concept to accept BUT when we do we begin to heal.
Alcohol is an extremely dangerous and deadly drug. When used in excess it changes the chemistry in our brain. Often individuals who become alcoholics have a mental illness (anxiety or depression) that has not been diagnosed. They use alcohol to self medicate. My father was also an alcoholic and became addicted to prescription medication. In 2004, his addiction became too strong and he finely checked himself into a rehabilitation institute. He was sober (from alcohol) until the day he died. He told a close friend that if he ever became addicted to alcohol again he would not be able to live. A lot happened in my father’s last months: a major back surgery which led to him getting addicted to pain medication. He tried to use psychotropic medications to battle his addiction as he cut his pain medication cold turkey. I believe that the psychotropic medications and withdrawal from pain medications is what led to his actions. WOW. I ended up writing a novel here:) I cannot imagine what it would be like to have an addiction to medications or alcohol; I am blessed to be able to say that. From my studies in graduate school and talking with others who have struggled, I have realized that it is literally like a war that one is fighting with themselves. It creates this sense of hopelessness, leaving the addicted individual believing they are worthless and a burden to those they love. It is responsible for taking a lot of lives, both by natural causes and suicide. When I feel angry at my father I remember that his pain ran so deep. Your father’s pain likely ran just as deep, leading to his final act.
I came across a great article the other day that I will post on our FB page. I wanted to pass it along to you. Again Lori, I am so happy that you found our site. Please know that you are not alone in your grief!
http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-14211/4-life-lessons-i-learned-from-my-alcoholic-father.html
David and Jessica….
Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words. I’m only a month late, but better late than never. The first anniversary of my dad’s death went as well as it could. We went to the area where he took his life, (it’s part of a national forest near his home), my step mom about a week before had a memorial bench put right where it happened, it beautiful, with his name and dates and “peace be with you”. We went back to the house, had some pizza (his favorite), a couple beers and listened to Garth Brooks (again his favorite). All in all, it wasn’t as rough as I thought it was going to be.
I have to remember my dad is finally at peace, for maybe the first time in his life. Knowing him, he would want any of us to spend a single second feeling bad, guilty, or regretful. He was and is so much more than the final act and he can not be remembered only for the suicide. I would give anything to have him back, but to have him back in the great physical and mental pain he was in would be incredibly selfish of me. I have never been mad at him, that may still be coming, I will get frustrated or exasperated, like really dad??? I can’t believe you are missing this!!! I also have to remind myself, although it is getting less, that his suicide was devastating enough, I can’t add to it and lose myself. Again, thank you!!
Lori
Lori, it sounds like a great way to celebrate your dad’s memory. I absolutely love what you did! Anniversaries do not always have to be sad, as we often assume they need to be and feel guilty when we are not. I too believe that your father is at peace. I believe my father is too. Although I miss him everyday and wish he were here, I would not want him suffering any longer. I honor his memory by trying to live the best life possible. I stop to smell the flowers, and enjoy the little moments. Through his suicide, I learned to find happiness and not settle for less. I love that you stated that you cannot “lose myself.” That is so powerful! Our fathers’ actions were theirs, not ours. We cannot carry their pain. Instead we can honor their memory, smile when we think of the time we had with them, and live!
I read something a few months ago on a facebook forum. I can’t remember who the person posting lost to suicide, but she wrote the why of the suicide isn’t for us to understand, that belongs to our loved one who died by suicide. After reading that, a light went off in my head, I realized I had been driving myself crazy trying to figure out why my dad did this, and I’m never going to, because only my dad owns that. It’s amazing how you can read and read, and all of a sudden one thing will stick with you and change your outlook.
I have also found that I’m beginning to realize it’s about the small moments. Life, after my dad’s death, has become more about enjoying the moment, sitting in the backyard reading, going to a fair, napping on a rainy day. It’s not about making money and buying more and more, my dad had all the material things anyone could want, and in the end those things didn’t matter, didn’t make him happy.
Lori, my life is similar to yours as I too work to appreciate the little things, and live in the moment. My father searched and searched to find happiness and inner peace. I honor his memory by finding my own and appreciating the life I have. I have found that living this way is the only way to make peace and let go of any anger or guilt.