Five years ago today at around this time of day, I received news by way of my cell phone that my oldest child, my 27 year old son, Douglas was dead.
He'd hung himself.
I know some people feel that five years is plenty of time to adjust to the death of a loved one, but if you've lost a child then you know five years can feel like five minutes -
especially on the anniversary of their death. There is not "set" time that a person recovers from the death of someone they love. I don't think we ever "recover". From the moment someone we cherish dies, we are transformed into a different person. Whoever we were before they died dies along with them. And when it's one of our children that we lose, no matter what age, the loss of ourselves is huge.
My son never talked about suicide - ever.
Referring to his death as a shock is a gross understatement. And left no note. His siblings and I were left in agonizing pain without any idea as to why. A month later we found out he'd been put on Paxil by his doctor.
Need I say more?
He'd gone to his doctor complaining of insomnia, not depression.
Not only was a left with wrestling the sorrow of losing my son but I also had to deal with the fact that he'd taken his own life. Accepting his death was one thing, accepting that he chose to not live anymore was quite another. A mother doesn't pour her heart and soul into raising a child to have them grow up and not want to live.
The guilt I felt was over-whelming and even now, five years later and knowing full well my son would not have hung himself if not for this devastating drug, I still blame myself.
The anniversary of his death is beyond painful.
He left behind 2 sisters and 2 brothers, each of them struggling with the loss in different ways. My oldest daughter, who was only 2 years younger than my son, (and next in line), has taken to anger, bitterness and blaming ME to cope with her pain, (and she also uses alcohol to cope). One thing I learned, that I never expected, is that when a family suffers a loss such as ours did each family member plummets into a tunnel of grief all their own.
Families do NOT grieve together like you might think.
Isolated
What made my son's death especially difficult for me is that my Mother had passed away unexpectedly just 5 short months earlier. My Mother was my best friend and having my son die so soon after her, well, you can imagine the suffering I experienced - it was the worst pain I've ever had in my life and please, Dear God, I hope I never do again.
The first year I call the "Numb Year", excruciatingly numb.
I did go to grief counseling. I joined a group of parents that had lost children, (adult children), and that helped a lot. I was told by one of the parents after a meeting one night that the second year is the worst. That came as quite a blow and something I did NOT want to know. But it was true. After the first year passed and the numbness wore off then the REAL PAIN set in. In my second year I found it extremely difficult to keep going to the parent's group which surprised me. They had been my saving grace the first year but by the second, the pain of the parents was just too much for me. I would shoulder their sorrow making mine doubly heavy and then leave the meetings angry, annoyed and feeling so heavy I could barely get out of bed the next day.
Going to grief meeting is no way like an AA meeting.
There is no celebrating getting to the first anniversary or the second or the third and so on. No way. I just found it more and more painful to attend the meetings with the parents and then I felt guilty and bad about that!
I do strongly urge a parent that has lost a child to go to grief meetings or counseling because I am much better because I went. For me it turned out it wasn't something helpful after the first year but we are all different and for another person it could very well be helpful to get this kind of interaction year after year.
The Good Things
I do my best to celebrate my son's life when the anniversary of his death comes around. There are many good memories for which I am truly blessed to have, but the deep sorrow and anguish of how he left us is a wound that I don't think will ever fully heal. It's hard to not think about what could have been and all the I "should haves", but dwelling on all of that does little good for anyone. Yes, I am angry. Angry about a lot of things that have everything to do with losing my son and some things that don't. I navigate my path in life slower than before, damaged and broken. At times the future looks so dark that I want to lay down and die myself but then my faith in our loving and faithful Lord Jesus brightens up my world with Hope and God's Promise.
The mother I was the moment before my son took his last breath is gone.
She died with my son and I miss her, as do my living children and everyone else that knew me before Douglas passed away. My goal is to take who I am now and keep following after Jesus on a path of Faith, Hope and Love.
It would be what Douglas would want me to do and in doing that, my son does live on by way of the love my children and I show each other, by the grace and friendship we show others outside of our family and by holding onto some optimism for a future that has purpose.
I love you Douglas.
You are only as far away as my own heart.
