I made a pledge when Charles died by suicide not to nitpick what people said to me after his death. After all, it is so hard to know what to say. I was overjoyed if someone said anything at all.
To be honest, the worst thing you can say is nothing at all. So don’t fret if you have used the “better place” expression.
Here is my issue with it
When we say “better place” we could potentially be glorifying heaven as a destination. Basically you could be promoting an early exit since you are implying the place after death is “better” than … Read more...
On the eve of the millennium, I wrote both my children a letter that I ended up giving to them on their 16th birthday.
Charles kept his letter and the creases and letter were well worn which indicated he had opened it and read it often in the 4 years before he died at 20.
After his suicide, we got his backpack back and in it he had every single card or letter I had written him while he was away at boarding school, every family picture he could find and have printed out– and this letter.
At some point, you have to ask yourself, what is that baggage doing for me?
To move forward after Charles’ suicide, I had to let things go.
Like anger. Guilt. Shame.
Unlike other suicide loss survivors, I never felt a lot of shame. When we first started seeing signs of drug use, I did feel shame but as I educated myself, I came to realize addiction was an illness.
So I let it go.
I had some flashes of anger after Charles killed himself but I never thought he died by suicide to hurt me. I never felt anger at anyone else either. I didn’t blame anyone or think someone … Read more...
I remember waking up. Then dreading that I woke up and reality hitting me like ice water in the face.
My child is dead. I am the mother of child who killed himself. I actually feel as if I am in someone else’s skin because it feels so foreign and prickly. I just want to slide out of myself and into someone else’s life. Anything but the one I’m in right now.
Randy and I hold each other sobbing. The coulda, woulda, shoudas hitting us hard in the light of day.
Having some fun with grief. And you didn’t think that was possible did you? Those of us in the “club” can relate.
Grief – The price you pay for having loved someone and lost them
Grief Ambush– When you are minding your own business and wham, grief hits you from behind and takes you down. You didn’t even see it coming. You feel the weight of it in your heart and all your limbs. It sticks around a while before it lifts slowly allowing you to breathe again. “Grief attack” is a synonym