This was a question from one of my talks at a high school from a student. So I thought I would answer it here. The young lady meant that after losing my son to suicide, how did I go on?
At first, it was so brutal I couldn’t fathom living through the pain. I would curl up in the bottom of the shower crying and banging on the walls. But I told myself that as bad as it was right then, it would never be as bad as getting the news of my son’s suicide. That part was over and it would never hurt that much again.
And if I survived that, I could survive anything.
It took years to find my footing. It took agonizing patience. It took love and support, journaling, exercise, and mediation. But most of all, it took faith and a belief in hope. After years, I had learned to live with the grief and at the same time find purpose and meaning.
Did I ever not want to go on? I didn’t want to wake up some days. But I didn’t want to end my life. While that’s not uncommon for parents who’ve lost a child to suicide, I never actually had those thoughts, it was simply a general feeling of not wanting to wake up and face the day. Because it made it all real.