Easter Memories of a Mother Surviving Suicide

Four years ago this Easter week, I had no idea that I would ever be writing a series of personal experiences over the loss of my only child, Jason, to suicide. I had no previous encounter with the kind of loss that completely rips the fabric of ones being from the safety of strong spiritual faith to the bowels of hell in an instant. That week was filled with reunions, celebrations and exciting events. This week is filled with bitter sweet memories of a gentler time.

Jason arrived at Newark Liberty International Airport on March 30, 2005 for a five day visit. A little bedraggled and weary from a busy work week and his attempts to kick some habits that were starting to affect his health, I still remember that smile on his face that lit up the dark hallway from whence he came. It had been five long years since his last visit, and my baby boy was beginning to show signs of middle age lines around his eyes and forehead. We hugged and laughed and shed a few tears, but my only child was home, and I was going to make sure he had a memorable visit.

We had a lot of catching up to do on the ride back to Southwestern Warren County, New Jersey, and while there were moments of quiet reflection and fretful stares from my precious son, I new he was happy to be with me. I also sensed an almost defeated or resigned attitude coming from Jason that I had never seen before. It was the same demeanor that his father exhibited after spending almost four years in the U.S. Air Force.

I don't know what makes or breaks a man, but I grew up hearing that behind every great man is good woman, and Jason had not yet found her. As an Air Force wife and mother, I was still but a child myself and definitely not what I would now consider to be a good woman. But on this cold March day in 2005, I knew I was a good woman and mother and wanted to do all I could to give my son the courage and strength to fight his demons and become the best man he could be.

In the days to come, Jason revealed to me some of his trials and triumphs and confided in me about things that were most important to him. He talked about failed relationships, missed opportunities, disappointments and regrets. After years of alcohol and drug abuse, he was now clean and sober and was going to stay that way. Even though I encouraged him to join AA or another such group, Jason assured me he had it under control and didn't need that kind of help. He did, however, talk about moving to New Jersey to get a fresh start, but it was just an idea that he might consider if his current promotion at work didn't pan out.

Jason also shared his passion for motorcycles, cars and music and how much he wanted to win the heart of a good woman. How ironic. Of all the things he held dear, the most important thing was that which he had never known. He would have given up anything for the love of a woman, but he always wanted the ones he couldn't have. Whether it was lack of confidence or simply bad luck, Jason never found his soul mate.

As we prepared for our traditional Easter, Jason's mood became more jubilant with each family visit. On Good Friday, we spent the evening with my sister and her family dying Easter eggs. Jason was an exceptional guitarist and entertained us with several of his favorite songs while his nieces joined him on their air guitars. He seemed to enjoy their accompaniment as much as the girls did.

Easter morning will always bring a smile to my face as I recall playing Easter bunny for the first time since Jason was a little boy. I tiptoed from my bedroom that morning, and as quiet as a mouse, I placed an Easter basket filled with chocolate bunnies, jelly beans and other goodies close to his pillow. With my camera hung around my neck, I snapped a photo of my boy sleeping with his Easter basket and caught him sheepishly peeking up and smiling at me. Little did I know it would be the last time.

Another fond memory from that visit was the day my brother in law, his son, Jason and I went to the New York Auto Show in New York City. It poured all day, but we had the best time looking at all the latest concept cars and old relics of years gone by. Jason was in his element and seemed more enthused with this event than I had ever seen him before. I remember thinking how much he had matured since his prior visit in 2000 and how he was going to be alright. When we had seen all there was to see, we ran through the rain to a pizza parlor and laughed and discussed our favorite cars and sightings of stone men and grapevine ladies. It was a stellar day in New York.

As our visit drew to a close, Jason shared his darkest secret with me. He revealed that as a child he had been physically and emotionally abused on many occasions while living in Tennessee and Florida. The abuser, not a blood relative, threatened him with greater harm if he were to ever tell anyone.

It wasn't until after his death that I learned the full extent of this abuse from Jason's best friend. At that time, it was almost more than I could bear to think that not only had he been the victim of such unconscionable behavior, but that he had kept it from me for more than twenty five years. To this day, I wonder how different his life would have been had I known. Perhaps he would still be alive today. I will be forever haunted by the very thought of it.

It is now coming up on the third anniversary of Jason's tragic death by suicide, and I have come much farther than I would have thought possible this time last Easter. While there will always be moments of deep sorrow and regret, I know Jason has made me a much gentler, kinder and stronger woman than I would have been had he not touched my life. My scars are deep, but my faith runs deeper still. It is this Faith that continues to sustain me.

Over the last two and half years since I started writing about my journey of survival and recovery, I have had many messages and emails from others whom have struggled with the loss of a loved one or with their own suicidal tendencies. Each message has been one of hope and gratitude and has given me the strength and courage to continue to share my thoughts and stories on surviving the loss of Jason. Not only am I blessed, knowing that others have benefited from my experience, but I am so grateful to know that Jason's life has touched so many others in a positive way. As I continue to survive in the moment, I do so knowing I am not alone. Like Jesus ascended on the third day, it is my greatest desire to help others rise above their pain and sorrow in this third year since losing Jason.