Reflecting on Eight Years since Losing Dad to Suicide

It is hard to believe that it has been eight years since losing dad to suicide. Much has happened in the last eight years, all of which my dad hasn’t been a part of. I think that’s what hurts the most. While we talk about my dad often, it doesn’t replace the fact that he is no longer here.  This year’s anniversary seems to be hitting harder than it has in a while. Maybe it’s the after-Christmas blues when the dust settles and there is little to focus your attention and energy on. Maybe it’s because my family (of origin) isn’t together this year. My sister and I often spend the 27th together which offers the best distraction. We can say anything and everything and feel understood. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the fact that my husband is working 14-16-hour days, because it’s their “busy season” when all he wants to do is be with his family. My how the times have changed. Or maybe it’s just because I miss the man. I guess that’s just it. Like suicide, there isn’t one “why.” There are many factors that compile that make things a little more difficult than they once were. Luckily, I know this is a passing moment and know that the more I try and change it, the stronger it will become. Today is about embracing the pain that accompanies his absence. It is a reminder of the love I had for him. In honor of my dad, and the pain that accompanies his loss, I offer a little advice:

1. Stop “Silver Lining” everything: Of course, it could always be worse, and there always is something to be grateful for. But here’s the thing. Silver lining another person’s experience completely invalidates how they are feeling. Often, how they are feeling IS as bad as it can get. Telling them it could be worse takes them to a place that is unbearable and often unlivable. Instead, offer the reassurance that you are there and will continue to be there every step of the way. Watch this great video on empathy vs. sympathy.
2. Don’t offer solutions: Instead, approach someone else’s pain with curiosity. Ask them to tell you more about it, to help you better understand. Entering someone else’s experience helps them feel less alone. You don’t have to fix it. Let me say that again…YOU DON’T NEED TO FIX IT. Just be present and patient.  
3. Stop Apologizing when people tell you how they are feeling: Well, unless you have something to apologize for. If not, stop saying, “I’m sorry.” It makes it about you. The other person is then forced to make you feel better which often leaves the person feeling a sense of shame about their own feelings. Their pain has made you uncomfortable, which in turn leads to them no longer talking.
4. Ask how people are doing, and actually listen the their response: Andy Spade said it best in his birthday tribute to his late wife, Kate Spade. “Ask friends and relatives if they are okay. This is truly important. Sometimes they won’t tell you how they are feeling but nudge them to find out.” The nudging part is the most important piece. People respond with “okay” or “good” without even thinking. Nudge them, because often times they need that nudge. Andy goes on to say, “Some of us are too embarrassed or prideful to admit we have flaws. Please don’t hide from them. There is no shame in having flaws. I have many. As do some of my best friends, mentors and idols. We should take pride in admitting our humanity. Perfection isn’t the goal — honesty is.”
5. Don’t wait until tomorrow: It is an age old saying that still holds much value. There are no guarantees when it comes to tomorrow. I will never forget the last day we spent with my dad. It was Christmas 2011, and he just wasn’t right. When he left that day, I stood at the door waving goodbye until he was out of sight. Something I used to do as a little girl, and hadn’t done it since. Something told me that would be the last time. Two days later, he took his life. It took me a long time to forgive myself for not stopping him that day. My focus on what I could have done, was taking away from what I could do. Make that call; don’t wait until tomorrow. You never know if it will save a life.

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. I love the person I have become since losing dad to suicide. My only wish is that it didn’t take his death to bring me here. My best advice is to find purpose in the pain. That is what makes it bearable. There is always purpose, it just takes a little time to find it.

In Loving Memory of Robert Henry Levstik (January 5th, 1949-December 27th, 2011).

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