A letter to my mom one year later

Today’s guest post is from Johanna who wrote an open letter to her mom. February marks the one-year point that her mom died by suicide. Like me, I am sure many survivors will relate to her words. 

A letter to mom one year after she left

It’s been a year.

Thinking back on this time last year, I was almost 7 months pregnant. I was equal parts excited and nervous to be a mother. I called my mom almost every day on my commute home from work. She lived a few states away, and as my pregnancy progressed we talked more and more. Being a mother of 4, she was a pro at all things “mom.”

Then, on a typical Wednesday in February, my family’s whole world came crashing down.

I think the best way to explain this story is through a letter I wrote to my Mom the day after she took her own life. It’s been edited a bit, but this is the stream of consciousness of an in-shock, grieving person.

 

Dear Mom,

Yesterday was the worst day of my life. Yesterday you killed yourself. I am deeply struggling to find meaning in all of this. I cannot comprehend why this was the answer. I just talked to you the day prior and you were so happy telling me about the boat’s progress and asking about the baby. I have replayed the last few days, months, years in my head on repeat trying to find a sign, a signal, something that would have given us a clue that you were deeply unhappy. I am so angry and I feel like I’m continually falling into a deeper and deeper hole trying to understand this.

You were supposed to be there when our baby is born. We were supposed to have so many more family dinners, boat adventures, and happy times. You were supposed to make Christmas cookies with my babies. You were supposed to come help me when I will feel completely overwhelmed with a newborn in just a few weeks. We were supposed to go to Paris together. We were supposed to have more time.  

You raised me to love everyone and find the beauty in all things. I cannot find the beauty in this. I keep asking myself if I had called you on Tuesday evening when I drove home from work if you would have changed your plan. I keep looking for signs or signals around the house that you were planning this. I wish I had known how you were feeling and that you and Dad had a hard time the last few weeks. You never talked to us about those kinds of things; you always protected your relationship with Dad. I understand this, but at the same time wish you had been more open. I just don’t understand why this was the answer. You had so much to live for.

Right now is the time yesterday that you took your life. The dogs are looking for you. The chickens are looking for you, pecking at the back door. Dad went on a bike ride to clear his head because I don’t think he can be in this house right now. I am waiting for you to come out of your office or bedroom to ask if I want some coffee. I keep imagining that maybe you’re out on a run and will be back before I know it.

I can’t imagine what life will be like without you. Right behind my husband, and honestly sometimes before him, you are my first phone call for everything. Good, bad, ugly, hard, exciting, happy – you are the one I call. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.

I love you Mom.

I never expected to write my mom’s obituary and plan her funeral at 27. I never expected for my daughter to never meet her grandma.  I never expected to cringe when people ask about my parents and praying they wouldn’t notice that I only mention my dad. I didn’t expect to be on the brink of tears every time someone politely asks, “What happened?” when I end up having to share in a conversation that my mom passed away.  Never in a million years did I think my mom would do anything like this. My siblings and I have hunted for clues, signs, and honestly anything that would help us understand. Each time we uncover new information, it doesn’t help as much as I want it to. It doesn’t make the hurt go away. It doesn’t make the deep yearning I feel to talk to my mom disappear.

This past year has brought the highest highs and lowest lows of my life. As someone who has experienced a roller coaster of emotions this past year, I’ve learned so much. In some ways, I feel like a different person than I was before this loss.

Below are a few things for suicide survivors to keep in mind that most people won’t tell you.

1. Share as much as you feel comfortable. In the beginning, I told no one outside my immediate family what happened. It didn’t feel like people would understand and I wanted so deeply for someone to understand what I was feeling. About 6 months after my mom’s death, I reached out to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Peer Support for Survivors of Suicide Loss Program. I was matched with a woman around the same age, who also lost her mom to suicide. Sharing our stories via an hour-long phone call was so therapeutic. I wasn’t ready to share with friends yet and this was the perfect avenue.
2. Don’t wear eye makeup for a while. I say this because if you’re anything like me, you don’t like people feeling bad for you or being able to tell you’ve been crying. If you feel a breakdown coming on, let it happen. I held it all in so tight when I returned to work after my mom’s death and that was a mistake. I would feel upset and not let myself let it out. All this did was make the next breakdown a million times tougher.
3. You can’t change the past, just your reaction to it. I know that my mom would not want this to break me. So after I emerged from a very depressed state, I decided to use this to propel me forward instead of holding me back. So many wonderful things happened for our family when I made that choice.
4. Little things matter so much more. The scent of my mom’s favorite chamomile shampoo, wearing her slippers, and my strong morning coffee that I take with half and half just the way she used to. A key chain from her keys that I carry with me daily. Her make-up that my sister and I both keep but never use. There are so many things to list here. When someone passes away so suddenly it can make you crave these little things. You’re not crazy for keeping their last grocery list – do what you need to do.
5. Their cause of death doesn’t define their life. Rumors, speculation, and conversations in passing may paint your loved one in a certain light. Don’t let it. My mom was a wonderful, loving person who raised my siblings and me to be the strong, independent people we are today. She isn’t defined by her final moments. She is defined by the beautiful life she created for our family and her ability to make everyone feel welcome and loved. We will ensure her legacy lives on.

If you have found yourself here, know that no one wants to identify themselves as a suicide survivor. This is a membership to a group I never wanted, but ended up there.

After my mom’s death, I look at time very differently. Before I rushed from one thing to the next, missing family events and time with friends. I constantly worried about getting ahead and the next big thing. I have slowed down and become thoughtful with how I spend my time.

Time is not an unlimited resource, use it well. Be fully present during times with those you love. Put away your phone. Listen to them. Ask questions. Hug them tight. Answer their phone calls. Because some of us would do anything to get one more chance.