Last month, the local Rotary Club hosted a golf outing in my dad’s name and memory to raise funds for a scholarship to benefit area students. We were touched they chose to honor him in this way, especially four years after his death. It’s easy to feel like most people have forgotten about him by now.
I attended the dinner reception after the outing and braced myself to see several of my
dad’s colleagues, friends and golf buddies. As the evening began, I shared a few words of thanks. I also took advantage of the platform to remind attendees that no one should feel silenced in their depression or anxiety, nor in their grief.
What I found interesting is that I assumed I would still receive a few “I’m sorry for your loss” comments and perhaps even some questions about his death by suicide. Potentially because of the time that has passed, I found everyone to be very friendly and jovial. Most came up to me to thank me for being a part of the day and shared funny stories or memories about my dad. It made me realize that most people don’t feel the cloud or veil of suicide like I do. They remember him for who he was, his humor and the way he lived out the Rotary mission of “service above self.” The shock of the way he died may have subsided for them. Of course, I don’t know what is said behind closed doors, or how they really feel inside, but I felt positive about the way everyone seemingly prioritized the good over the bad.
To this day, I have this vision that I walk around with a flashing neon sign over my head that says, “my dad died by suicide.” I’ve chosen to blog about this aspect of his life and death. I went through years of survivor support groups and grief therapy. Naturally, my mind fixates on the last second of his life first. To others, the way he died doesn’t seem to be the defining memory. I always say I wish I could just focus on the 64 years of wonderful memories we have. There seem to be people out there who can do that. I envy them a bit.
Beyond the first months maybe year , I don’t spend much time agonizing over how my son died . That he died is more than enough for me .
Many who I’ve heard ( I facilitate LOSS groups , loving outreach for suicide survivors ) if when overwhelmed by these memories of the end of his life you can quickly replace with a smiling thought or memory .. Soon they take the forefront and others fade to the back.. This especially for PTSD for those who found their loved ones ..Sounds simple enough , I know it’s not ; its work.
Wishing you peace and loving bright memories to come ,
Katy
Hi Katy – Thank you for your thoughtful feedback. I really like the idea of quickly replacing a negative thought with a more positive memory.
I saw a psychiatrist after the loss of my 18 year old son. His words to me are words I hold on to daily. Don’t focus on his death. His life was so much more than those final few moments when he made that awful decision. That didn’t come easy at first, but as time passes, I am able to see his life more clearly and that has been healing for me. God bless you on your journey. Thank you so much for speaking out, helping to erase the stigma.
Hi Becky
Thankyou for sharing this. I feel the same way since losing my Dad to suicide, a flashing sign over my head. I’m trying very hard to focus on his life and not the way he died. But, it is very hard. Pleae know that you’re not alone with these feelings. x
Ooops, I didn’t use spell check 🙁
My mom died back in 2003 and I still feel like I have how she died write all over me at time’s especially this time of year! Thank you for sharing I can relate.
A beautiful heartfelt tribute from you that helped me this morning. I loved how you plainly stated each truth; your truth, their truth, the truth the reader themselves were feeling. The later truth there was included whether you realize it or not just by your sharing and allowing us to read your words.
We the reader understand if we have been changed forever due to our beloved one’s actions of ending their own lives with their own hand. I relate to the neon sign over my head. It feels to me like I am no longer seen as me but as the woman whose daughter killed herself. Life was rough before but now it’s a whole new ballgame. My daughter died this year at age 33 on 9/11/15. Thank you for sharing openly your words and your heart. I have not kept quiet as I hope to break the stigma associated with suicide. Bless all of our hearts.
I have the flashing neon sign toooo. LOL. Great way to describe it. Thank you for this great way to remember my husband. I do focus so much on the tragedy of his death rather than his life.
i will try and focus on that today and going forward.