If you, like one of my dearest friends, have lost a loved one to suicide, or nearly doneso. Please take a moment and read this. I initially wrote it for my chosen-family member who nearly lost his child, but wanted to share it with you also.
My heart is utterly broken for you and your family. I am so sorry. Everything I'm about to share you already know, but I believe is important for me to iterate. I beg your forgiveness if it comes off as remotely trite, callous, or unhelpful.
Your possible words are in red, my response in blue. Feel free to sub out 'child' for any other relational term.
I'm so sorry for letting you down, Smye. I was hoping to help you today with your project, but I find myself in a place that I haven't been before: at a loss for hope and being unable to trust my eyes and my heart.
I know my child is sick, but we were doing so well. They are going to graduate and looking forward to it, they are actively looking for work, my child asked me to take them to apply for college, they've been reestablishing healthy friendships and making new ones, my child expressed on Friday how wonderful it was that my their teachers have become supports, and countless other signs that they were getting well, stronger and more connected to their future.
Beyond the attempt itself, I think this is why I feel so upside down - for the first time, I'm unable to trust my experience and intuition. This was a true blindside and I'm shaken. I was home alone with my Child, and two of my other children when I received the call from the Suicide Help Line and I had to pack them all up to take us to the emergency room.
I think I have to shift my thinking on this... which may be the hardest part. I think I have to accept that my child has a "cancer" rather than a mental illness. That even when my child appears to be in remission, the cancer may actually be metastasizing in my child, and that ultimately, my child is dying and could go at any time. How do I plan for the future?
How do I protect everybody?
Smye's Dear Friend
PS - Thank you for your support. Please know I feel guilty about where I find myself... I know this is about my child.
Dear SDF,
You are right that this is about your loved one, but it is also about you, my friend. Your pain, fear, grief, anguish, suffering, misgivings, surprise are entirely real, entirely valid, and entirely worth addressing - in need of addressing. I hope you can allow yourself to let the guilt over your current state. Caring for you, addressing your own being IS taking care of your loved one.
As for letting me down, you have not. I'm not kidding or fudging the truth when I say that if you had soldiered on THAT would have been letting me down. I need to be able to trust that my family members will take care of themselves and set appropriate boundaries as you have done. THANK YOU! In light of the horror of all of this, there is no greater gift you could give me.
YI hope you know - deeply I'm sure even if it's difficult to believe - that your loved one's attempt is not your fault, not something you can ultimately protect anyone from, and is a symptom of their illness/cancer, not a failing on their part, or yours. And you're right, it's unpredictable. Snugglet's most recent attempt (yes readers, my 3 year old has attempted to end her own life - more on that for a future post) came in the immediate aftermath of the calmest/smoothest day she's had, quite literally, in their entire life. The only possible impact you, as their father, had on the attempt was, maybe, to impact timing. I don't mean to convey hopelessness, but to share that you can plan to build protective factors. You can plan to support and love and cherish and suffer alongside your diamond. And you may be able to delay further attempts beyond the end of an exceedingly long life. And you may not. And that is simultaneously inspiringly hope-giving and utterly devastating. It's that unknown and ambiguity we discussed a few weeks ago, but with immeasurable stakes - I cannot begin to fathom the agony you must be in right now and I am so full of sorrow for you and yours.
This may be of little help, but the image that has aided me with Snugglet is to envision their life as climbing a dune. The top is stability, whole health, safety. Snugglet climbing hard, her mama and I are cheering, but periodically you take a step and the sand rolls from under you and you slide back 5, 10, 20 paces. Every once in a while I even accidentally trip her, causing her to not only slide back but lose her footing entirely. But ultimately, currently, she's making net progress towards the top over the course of weeks, months, and years. I don't know your loved one half so well as I'd like, but your loved one appears to be much the same.
And ultimately, the sense of a blindside makes sense - as does the self-doubt it engenders. But I also believe it to be unavoidable. Whether a child is visibly making gains and appears to be in good health or you've just found drafts of a suicide note... the necessity of the audacious hope parents have to carry for their children's futures to maintain any semblance of sanity and wellbeing will lead any attempt to come as a blindside. We have to believe a positive end to their story is posssible and even likely somewhere in the depths of our beings. I hope you can forgive yourself also for feeling so surprised. And you're right, it's unpredictable and sudden. It came with far fewer warning signs, if any, than is often the case. And that makes your judgement that all was well no less valid given the information at your disposal. It even sounds as though it was accurate in the moments you made that judgement. Reality shifts, as you certainly know.
All of which is to say. I am sorry Friend. I hear you. I love you. Please let me know how I can support you - from a visit, to dinner, to brownies, to a mushroom hunt, to distance, to radio silence, to a good book recommendation (hell, I'll even read it to you if you need), to anything else you can conjure.
Take care,
Smye
And so, reader. If you find yourself in shoes similar to SDF, please, PLEASE take some time to care for yourself as you're going through this, to keep your head above water, and to try to trust that YOU are not to blame. Your loved one died, or nearly died, of a serious illness. One that is often ultimately terminal. And I am so sorry. My heart breaks for you, and for whatever it's worth, you have my digital hugs wrapped tightly around you. Seek comfort, seek help, seek support.
And one last thing. I love you! And I am so sorry for your suffering.
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