Author: sarah

Grief- Sadness

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It feels like there is a hole inside my heart. A hole that can never be patched. My dad took part of my heart when he passed away.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he is not here. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.  It happened so quickly. Life will never be the same. There was no final goodbye. That’s what I struggle with. I always thought my family and I would surround my dad when he was about to take his last breath. I thought that we would be able to say how much we loved him and cared for him. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get to tell him that I loved him so much. I loved our talks about his time in the Vietnam War. His time with his family when he was younger. Sometimes I would call him asking about how to fix something when I already knew the answer. I just wanted to talk to him. There’s many times that I am about to call him to tell him about a movie I saw that he would have liked to see. About history and genealogy info that I’ve come across.

I am so grateful that my dad taught me compassion. He surely was grumpy at times but he had so much love for everyone. He would freely give away money to people that he thought needed it. He would do anything to help his friends and family. He was so generous, almost too generous at times. I am grateful that I can help others. There’s so many people that need love and comfort in this world. Why would I not want to try and help?

Remembering my wedding day, my dad was so very nervous. More nervous than my husband and I! He couldn’t even get his suit on. A family friend had to give him something to calm his nerves. When my dad and I were in the hallway, waiting to walk down the isle, his nerves couldn’t handle it. So I told him, ‘Dad, it’s ok. We can do this. There’s nothing to be nervous about. (When it was our time to start walking I said) Come on, let’s go!’

On his last days, I wish he could have known that everything was going to be ok. That we were going to get through this. It makes me so sad that he lost hope, and the will to live. It hurts that he struggled with his mental health mostly alone. I wish I could give him a big, long hug, to try and fill the emptiness in his heart.

I will no longer get the birthday phone call from my dad, wishing me a happy birthday. I can’t call him to tell him about things we are doing to the house. I can’t call him to see what he did today. And all those things break my heart. I wish so badly that I could see him and tell him how much he meant to me.

Stigma

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Why is there such a stigma attached with suicide and mental illness? If we have a heart problem, broken bones, or diabetes, we see a doctor to get help. So why aren’t more people with mental illness and suicidal thoughts getting help?

There is so much judgement in this world today. For me, society judges moms harshly. Am I doing enough? Is my house clean? Are my kids dressed perfectly? Are my kids behaving perfectly? Absolutely not! And that is ok. We aren’t meant to be perfect. So when someone is suffering from a mental illness, they should feel free to get help. Not feel shame or unworthiness.

We, as a society, need to be more understanding of things that we ourselves may not even understand. Take homeless people for instance. Do some of you just roll your eyes, when passing by a homeless person asking for money? Do you think that they did this to themselves? These are all harsh judgments. Have I done this before? Yes! I think we all have. But I think if we start to look at situations differently and show compassion and kindness, our world might just be a little better. Maybe the homeless person you passed by has suffered from mental illness and experimented with drugs because they felt hopeless. I am not saying that it’s right to turn down that path, but it’s not right to judge someone that chose to go down a different path than we would. Maybe this person doesn’t have access to doctors or counselors. We don’t know anyone’s situations. I heard a quote once that says, ‘Be nice to everyone you meet, for they are fighting a battle you know nothing about.’ That is so true! I try my hardest to be nice to everyone. I truly care for people and want to help.

I myself have my own battles that I struggle with. I have struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life. Here’s where I will get a little personal. In high school, I had experienced some traumatic events. I used to cut myself. I was not happy with my life. I felt like no one cared about me. I thought no one would care if something happened to me. I went to a counselor. A psychiatrist diagnosed me as having  mild bipolar disorder. I was put on medication at 16 years old. I believe that’s the point where I decided I needed a change. I started going to church, and I really think that’s what saved me. I still struggle with depression and anxiety, and I haven’t had any bipolar episodes since high school, but I know where to get help and what I can do to relieve it. I also know that I am not ‘crazy’, as our society refers to mental illnesses and disorders.

So when it comes to suicide and mental illness, we need to stop the stigma. We need to open our ears and listen. Talk to people about suicide and mental health. I am not ashamed whatsoever that my dad took his life. He did the best he could in his life. He tried so hard for months to get help with his physical symptoms. Here’s some really important advice: BE HONEST about your health and your feelings. My family and I definitely knew my dad was suffering, he told us with every conversation that we had. But he was never really honest about his mental health. We didn’t know how bad he was suffering mentally. He never came out and said he was depressed, hopeless, and alone. What if he talked about it more? What if it was a normal thing to go see a counselor once a week to talk, just like it is to go to a chiropractor or checkups with the doctor? Maybe my dad would still be here. There are always people that will say ‘just buck up, you are fine.’ That is a horrible mentality to have. Some people will feel like they don’t need to see a counselor, that that’s for sissy’s. Why does our society feel that way? Why can’t we show emotion without feeling shameful for it?

Compassion. Kindness. Service. These three traits will help us to become better people, and will help us to positively contribute to our families, friends, our towns, and our society.

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Where is God?

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So many people ask this question when burdened with grief. Where is God? Why would he desert me in this time of need? Why did he let my father take his life? Sometimes it questions our faith in God. A true test.

I am here to tell you: Heavenly Father is here. He mourns with us, cries with us, cradles us. He knows our hearts and our intentions. He has not forsaken us in this time of need.

After I came home from dealing with the aftermath of my dad’s passing, I had a lot of comfort and inspiration. It was hard coming home and trying to begin a new normal for me. I have a few inspiring stories to share.

One day, I put on my dad’s music and just started crying. I remember sitting in a ball in my kitchen, crying. Praying to my Heavenly Father. I needed comfort. I missed my dad so much. About an hour later, the doorbell rang. My daughter’s friend dropped off freshly baked bread and a lovely card. I was making chicken soup for dinner and the bread would go perfect with it. The card shared words of comfort.  It was just what I needed. God had given me the comfort that I needed at that time.

Another day that week I wanted to look up the hymn ‘How Great Thou Art’ that was going to be sung at my dad’s funeral. I had my daughter bring me some older hymn books we had. There were 3 of them. I chose one and opened it up. When I saw the page, I smiled. My dad’s name was apart of the composer’s name. The name of the hymn was perfect. Then I looked at the bottom of the page. It was hand written and sort of a puzzle, ‘Look at page 100’.

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So I turned to page 100. I smiled again! The first part of the hymn says, ‘Lord, accept into thy kingdom Each repentant humbled one.’ Oh how I wanted to know that my dad was free from suffering and ‘accepted’ into Heaven. The handwritten note said to look at the back of the book.

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So I flipped to the last page of the book. Three simple words. I love you. I don’t think that could have been any sweeter. My dad loves me! And so does Heavenly Father!

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I laughed and then cried. I cried tears of comfort and peace. I knew my dad was ok. That Heavenly Father has him. That he is comforted and free of suffering. Oh how much I needed to hear that!

My visiting teacher dropped off some freezer meals for me. Just because. I couldn’t be more grateful for that. That in itself was such a great blessing. We then started talking about our dads. Her dad had the same cancer and some of the same side effects my dad had. It brought me comfort to know that my dad was not alone in his pain and suffering. And that I wasn’t alone with my own suffering, watching my dad suffer. She said that there was a reason she was placed here to be my visiting teacher.

God is amazing. He answers our sincere prayers through others. Through experiences. He will not leave us comfortless and alone. Heavenly Father and his angels surround us daily.

One night, while I was driving to pick up my daughter from my friends house, I felt that my dad was there. I was thinking about him and how he just loved to ‘come along for the drive’. He enjoyed accompanying others, and being around people, even if he didn’t say much. So while I was having those thoughts, it felt like he was sitting in the passenger seat. Just content and happy to be riding along with me. Smiling even. At peace. It felt so real that I even had to look over at the seat!

I know that I can turn to God for comfort, peace, strength, anything! He answers our prayers at the perfect times in our lives. He knows us and loves us so much.

Grief-Guilt

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Guilt is one of the worst stages of grief. It’s one that lingers. It holds you down. Clouds your vision. Deepens your depression. Why does this tiny word effect us so harshly?

There is guilt with any passing of a loved one. If my dad had a heart attack, I would feel guilty that he might have had too many treats. If he passed from a tragic car accident, I would say to myself that I could have made him stay home. All these IF ONLY questions. Guilt from losing a loved one to suicide is a much deeper, darker hole. It can consume you. IF ONLY I would have called more, asked him if he was feeling suicidal, taken him to the hospital to have him committed for suicidal thoughts. What if I gave him better advice, to get through is suffering? What if I visited him when he was feeling so bad? Would it have cheered him up? What if I talked more with him at Thanksgiving?

Guilt is such a consuming emotion. The worst part of all this, my dad said on two or more occasions, that its not worth living if he has to suffer with the physical side effects. He said he was thinking of taking his life, he just couldn’t stand the physical effects of his hormone therapy treatment. So why didn’t we do anything? That’s where I feel ashamed, embarrassed, a failure. A failure because I didn’t have him committed or called his doctor.

My dad has suffered with anxiety and depression his whole life. He tried natural supplements to help relieve his symptoms. He read self help books. But never in his life, that my family and I were aware of, did he ever think about taking his life. So when my dad said these awful words of wanting to take his life, we knew it was bad. We thought it was something that he could get through. He was tough! But we never thought he would actually take his own life! We thought it was a phase, that he would get over these awful side effects of hormone therapy and feel so much better! He called his doctor on Christmas Eve, asking what he could do to relieve these symptoms. The doctor didn’t hear his despair, depression, and loss of hope. And neither did we! The doctor probably only heard his anger and impatience.  When it got bad, my mom, sister, and I all tried to help him. My mom counseled with him every day. She would cook him good, hearty meals to get his weight up (not knowing that he would let it all out after he ate). My mom tried to get him out of the house. The day before he passed, they went out to breakfast and went shopping. He even commented that he had a good day. My sister counseled with him. She was going to support him in not taking the last hormone shot, and was going to go with him to the doctor that week of his passing. She offered great advice to him. I called him every few days, just to see how he was doing. I tried to make him laugh. I sent him some books to read that he would enjoy. I told him that it sounds like he is also suffering from depression and that he should get on medication. He was worried about side effects from medication. So he ended up not wanting to go on it. I gave him coping skills to help him get through the days. I told him that he will feel better, told him things to look forward to. I told him I was sorry he was suffering. That was our last conversation.

My family and I tried so hard to help him. But did we really do enough? What if we took it more seriously and have him committed. Would that have helped? My dad was never one to take any medications. So I honestly don’t think that would have helped.

All of these questions, the ‘what if’s’, the ‘if only’s’, is so emotionally consuming. They will never truly go away. Guilt will always be there. Always. In order for me and my family to move on, we need to let go of that guilt. Know that we all did our best, each and every one of us. This will not be easy. Most days will be hard, trying to acknowledge that we did everything we could.

That’s where we have to look at the bigger picture. God is in control. He always has been. He knows our hearts, our intentions, our thoughts! He loves us unconditionally. He is a very loving Heavenly Father. He does not want guilt to completely consume us. And neither would by dad!

Clouds

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Depression. Sadness. Sorrow. These are all the things we feel while grieving. These can be more intense when grieving a loved one who decided to take their life. We feel so much guilt and pain, that I think it can lead into a deeper depression.

I have been miserable the last week. I can hide it well for the most part, but sometimes it is easy to see. My eyes are swollen from crying in my sleep. I am exhausted. I just want to sleep the day away. I want comfort food all the time. My kids have watched way too much tv. So yesterday I decided I am going to change that. I am going to stop feeling bad for myself. I am going to pick myself up off the ground and move on. Now there isn’t really a true ‘moving on’ from this. I can’t change what happened. I had no control over that. What I do have control over, is how I decide to spend my days. I can decide to do things that make me happy. Have fun with my family. That doesn’t mean I will be thinking about rainbows and unicorns. Far from that. What I will do, is try my best to be humble in every situation. My dad would want me to be happy and enjoy this life that I have. I am always going to have a cloud over my head for the rest of my life because my dad chose to take his life. I have the choice of how dark that cloud is going to be. I can let some rays of sunshine come down through that cloud. Some days the cloud will be quite dark, some days rain will come, but I am going to try and bring sunshine in.

Grief Stages- Anger

/ sarah / 1 Comment

Grieving a loss of a loved one is hard. Grieving a loss of a loved one from suicide is even harder. It’s called complicated, compounded grief. It’s a roller coaster of emotions. There’s so many ups and downs. I will be talking about each stage of grief that my family and I are going through.

Anger

As I stare at the cursor blinking, waiting for me to write something, I can’t help but feel angry, mad, and bitter about my dad’s passing. Along with these strong feelings, I am mad at myself for not being more compassionate. I need to work through this layer of grief, in order to move on.

I am angry that he left us. It feels like such a betrayal. Without us even knowing if we did enough for him. There was no note or inclination why he would desert us. Were we not good enough for him? Did he not care about me, my sister, my mom, or his grand kids? I often think that a simple note of two simple words would be sufficient. A note that said ‘I’m sorry’. That’s all it would need to say. We would then know we did enough. That we cared enough. But we didn’t get anything.  I sound so harsh, so uncompassionate. It’s just one of these awful layers that I have to peel away. I feel like it was such a selfish act. To just give up, not only on himself, but gave up on us. (Oh those were some of the hardest words I have written, and for all the world to read). I know depression took over his rational way of thinking. I have been in that dark place before. It’s really hard to get out of that darkness. So I can understand. That he felt this was the only way to end the suffering. But at the same time, I think about all that he has been through. It seemed like this would be a piece of cake, his suffering he was going through the last couple months, compared with what he’s endured over his 70 years of life. He’s been through so much worse, so I thought. Why couldn’t he have the patience to wait a couple more months, when the hormones would start wearing off and he would feel better? When he could start getting out of the house more, go hiking, go exploring? We all thought this would blow over, just one of dad’s fixations. We just can’t seem to make sense of it all. Will we ever be able to come to terms with it? That he would actually end his life this way? I hope we will. But that day seems so far away. Worlds away.

 

My Father, His Legacy

/ sarah / 1 Comment

My father, the gentle giant. Hard worker, family man, Christian, lover of music, Republican, NRA member, Vietnam Veteran. These are just a few characteristics of my dad. To try and understand his end in life, is to understand his life and his legacy.

My dad sparked my faith in Jesus Christ. He took me to church, bought me my first bible, and baptized me. He read his bible every single day.

He loved his family and my mother unconditionally.

His favorite hobby was reloading bullets and competition shooting. He was at the gun club every single weekend, without fail. He didn’t shoot very well, but that’s not why he went. He loved the friendships he made. He was a very respected man.

The mountains were his favorite place to be. We went camping and hiking when I was a kid. His last hike was just a month before he passed away. When we would be hiking in the forest, he would stop, pause, and say ‘Look at these trees, smell the fresh, clean air. This is happiness!’

He loved his music. CCR, Rolling Stones, Lovin Spoonful, Beatles, Beach Boys.  These are just a few of his favorites. He cranked his music up and sung away. He could name the month and year that the songs came out.

He loved working with his hands. He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to reload bullets, and how to work the lawnmower.

My father was a quiet man, but he taught me much. He taught me how to be a good friend. He taught me how to have a good work ethic. He taught me how to be compassionate to everyone I meet. He taught me how to respect and be respected. He taught me to love Jesus.

My father has been through many hardships in his life. He lost his 12 year old sister in a tragic hiking accident when he was only 17 years old. He didn’t have a father figure growing up. He went to war. He fell off a ladder and broke his arm. He’s had surgeries on his shoulders. He had stomach surgery, after needing 6 blood transfusions. And lastly, he had radiation treatments for his prostate cancer that came to an end in October 2016. He was so proud and happy to have made it through his treatments, and be cancer free! Woohoo! What didn’t end was his hormone therapy. He needed the maximum 2 years of hormone shots to deter his cancer from coming back. That’s when side effects started.

What my dad did, was completely out of character. Something we didn’t see coming or could have ever prepared for. That last decision he made in his life, does not define him. My sister was reminded of this bible verse: 2 Timothy 4:7 ‘I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith’. And that’s exactly what my dad did. I am proud to call him my dad.

 

 

 

 

My Story

/ sarah / Leave a comment

I never thought I would have to share a devastating story quite like this one. I feel vulnerable, shame, guilt, sadness, anger, and everything else that comes with suicide loss. Here is my story; raw, real, and my reality.

December 27, 2017 will be one of the worst days of my life. My phone was ringing at 3am. I was in a deep sleep, quite content not to answer it. It was my sister, and she left me a message. I listened right away and will never forget her voice and her message. ‘Sarah, it’s dad’, my sister spoke, in a choked up voice. I called her right away, running  out of the bedroom saying ‘No, no, no! This is not real. I am in a dream.’ Unfortunately, it was very real. Here is where my shame and guilt come in. I already knew what he did. I thought he had done it in the desert. These are some hard words to write. I feel ashamed. I. Knew. What. He. Had. Done. How could I let this happen? How could I have helped more? Why didn’t he call me, in that vulnerable state?

The day progressed in a fog of shock. I threw clothes in a bag for my baby and I, and left for the 8 hour drive to my family. Leaving my husband and 5 other children at home. I drove, numb to the world. I forced myself to eat, and couldn’t tell you how many energy drinks and sodas I had.

I arrived at my parents house, set the baby down, and ran to my mom. Wrapping my arms around her, like a child. I cried and sobbed. My mom’s voice was horse. I later joked that she sounded like a mafia Al Pacino gangster.

The day continued in a haze of fog. My sister and I busy making phone calls and making sure my mom was stable. I made sure that my mom did not have to make any phone calls. Having to tell her story, over and over, would be too much.

We were victims of this horrible, tragic way of ending a life. Grief of a loved one is hard. Very hard. But losing a parent to suicide is what experts call ‘compounded grief’. There’s so many extra layers to this kind of grief. Each layer becoming harder and harder to peel back. Other layers coming back. How are we all going to deal with this?

This is where I will pause my story for now. This will be a place where I share how I am dealing with this tragic incident. A place for hope, help, and healing.