A Mother Surviving Suicide - the Third Year

It has been said that time heals all wounds, and I suppose to a degree this is true. However, when it comes to losing a child or loved one to suicide, it is the scars left behind that are relentless when it comes to recovering from such a tragedy. As a young woman, I had exploratory abdominal surgery and to this day, I have no feeling in the area surrounding the scar. I think traumatic loss can have the same affect on many suicide survivors.

In this third year, since losing my only child, Jason, to suicide, I have noticed a lot of changes in my personality and sensitivities. Considering the short amount of time since his passing, I am amazed that I have been able to recover this far, but I am beginning to notice the affects of the scars, which have become so prevalent in my everyday existence.

In the first two years of grieving Jason's death, I was mostly numb to my feelings and vacillated between anger, sadness, depression and fear for the future. My life seemed hopeless and empty, with nothing to look forward to except work and quiet solitude. Writing was my lifeline, and I was compelled to share my feelings with my suicide support groups and all of cyberspace, yet when it came to those I most cared about, I kept my feelings mostly to myself.

Of course, in the first six months after Jason passed, I was unable to hold my emotions in tact and would be rendered inconsolable by a look, memory or any manner of stress placed upon me. While most of my peers and family were supportive at first, it wasn't long before I realized how quickly people expected me to move on. The irony of it all is that complicated grief doesn't really set in until after six months to a year, and by the time we are expected to be on the mend, we are just starting to face the reality of our loss.

As I look back today at those first two years, I realize the totality of what happened didn't really sink in until the end of the second year. On June 30, 2006, Jason had taken a nine millimeter pistol to his forehead and pulled the trigger. In a state of intoxication, my precious son, at the age of thirty three, had decided his life was worthless, and he killed himself. Along with him went all my hopes and dreams for the future and nothing would ever bring them back.

What I couldn't see, and for a long time refused to consider, was the fact that I am still alive, and only I can create new dreams. Only I can create a reality that isn't painful and filled with tragedy and hopelessness. Only I can let go of the guilt, shame and fear and open my heart to love and endless possibilities for happiness.

As I mentioned in my previous article, Afterlife Visitations - He Touched My Face, I had lost my faith and it took working through my anger with God, followed by months of therapy, soul searching, prayers and meditation to bring it back. God was listening. He carried me through the pits of despair and pulled me out of the deepest hole of depression I had ever faced. He then planted the seeds of hope, love and promise within my heart and soul.

In an attempt to move on with my life, I began writing songs again and in the spring of 2008, I purchased a midi synthesizer and began learning to play again. Writing was my means of escape and survival from all that had happened over the previous two years and playing music again began to reawaken my soul. Perhaps it was my way of going through the motions of healing without really being ready to let go.

Leading up to the second anniversary of Jason's passing, I had an extremely rough patch of emotional setbacks and as if I were in the midst of all the trauma of those early days, life began to seem more hopeless than ever. In retrospect, I believe it was my awakening to the reality of life without Jason. I would never hear his voice on the other end of the telephone again. There would be no more cards, letters or visits and there would never be any grandchildren. It was the beginning of the end of one life and the start of the rest of my life.

It wasn't until the fall of 2008 that I began to feel the shift in my healing process. It was as if the fog began to lift and the sun started shining through, creating a sparkle within my tattered psyche. My meditations became deeper and life seemed to take on a new hue. Yes, color was coming back into my life. All those prayers for hope, healing, forgiveness and love seemed to be working. I think perhaps the music had a little to do with it, too.

Today, my heart is wide open and ready for whatever the future may hold. I no longer feel too old for love, adventure or even a hit song. I am finding it easier to let my feelings be known to those I care for and am even ready to let them know who I am becoming. It has become most important for me to tell those whom I love, how much they mean to me, and it is equally important for me to know that they are safe and happy. Life is fleeting and death is certain, so I have learned to speak my mind now, for tomorrow may be too late.

I will always carry the scars of losing Jason, but I am learning to live with them and not let them control me. While I still have moments of deep sadness for what could have been had Jason chosen to stay on this planet, I know he is finding his way on the other side and that gives me peace.