Broken Pieces

When I was thirteen years old my mom attempted suicide. I remember going to the hospital and seeing my Mom hooked up to IVs. They needed to flush out her system since she inhaled the carbon monoxide fumes from her car. This all took place around the holidays and she needed to stay in the hospital for awhile. She was able to come home for Christmas day, but just for a few hours.

It was hard to understand why my Mom did not want to live anymore. There were several events that contributed to this final desperate attempt to take her own life. I remember my Dad talking to my brother and I and trying to explain things. He told us that my Mom had been depressed and that she had kept secret the fact that our uncle was gay. Up to that point none of the adults confronted the children about this. To me it did not change how I felt for my uncle. I had lived all those years loving him, why should this change anything? But there was more to come. We found out that my uncle had tested positive for AIDS.

After my mom came home I began to internalize a lot of emotions. I did not want to "bother" her with any of my problems. It remained this way through my teenage years. Now that it has been over 20 years from that dreadful day and things have changed. My mom has learned to deal with her depresssion. I realize that in a weird way our family grew stronger. My Dad started to attend church with us. I thank God that my mom was saved before it was too late.

I know that people think that suicide is a way to escape from their problems. But I look at suicide from a different view. I lived through the broken pieces of life that it leaves behind. I am now a mother myself and thankful that my son is able to know his Grammie. I can't even imagine how life would have been if my mom had died that day.