When Suicide Hits Home

A few years ago an old friend came to pay respects when my father died. We had lost touch after my divorce. In the inevitable split of property often comes a split of friends and he was a friend I had hated to lose. Its hard to think back to that day because in the emotion of saying good bye to my father there was no way to know it would be he last time I’d see my friend. He killed himself a few months later and any chance of renewing a friendship was gone. There are few moments in my life that I can remember with such clarity that it feels like I’m still in the moment, but that is one of them. If I could go back to that moment when I hugged him goodbye and just tell him how loved he was would it have made a difference. That’s the thing about suicide. There are often no signs or the signs can be so subtle that they are missed. Or maybe we had been out of touch for too long and nothing I said would have mattered. One of the most difficult things for anyone who loses a loved one to suicide is all the questions that come later. And of course the stigma. I have to admit that I don’t understand the stigma part of it. No family should feel shame when they suffering through loss but many do. My friend was in the military and at the time of his death the White House was not sending condolence letters to the families losing someone to suicide. It is something that the Department of Defense along with the White House would later change in hopes of addressing the strain on our military and to help remove the stigma. But it still doesn’t remove the sense of loss or answer the questions. His face is still etched in my mind as well as all of the lost opportunities to repair something that should never have been broken. In the people say stupid things department one of the biggest I hear regarding suicide is that the person who committed suicide was weak. How I cringe when I hear that. I will tell you that my friend was not weak. He was one of the strongest people I knew and there were years that he was my rock. That’s another thing that makes it so tough. When you look at a person and all you see is strength its hard to see the pain they are feeling. People are great at covering emotion and not all people who intend to commit suicide ask for help. Not all tell people. According to the American Association of Suicidology there is one suicide ever .07 minutes. I don’t even know how to translate that into a number that I can relate to but for me it means that my friend made of flesh and blood is now a statistic. Whether its part of a rise in military suicides or that he was a male who used a firearm doesn’t matter to me. There are still too many unanswered questions. I still have children who’s memories are fading as they age and I try to keep him alive with stories but it gets harder as they get older because to them, he is no longer flesh and blood. He is just a story with a sad ending. When talking about mental health many have perceptions that are false. There is nothing weak about a person who needs help. Whether it’s a soldier who’s afraid of being perceived as weak, a police officer who fears losing his job, a mom who is worried about her place in the community or a teen who thinks things will just never get better there are many reasons people don’t seek help and many reasons they think the only answer is suicide. I wish that I had some magic words I could have said that day. I wish I could spare all of his loved ones the torture that comes in trying to make sense of it. All I can do is try to understand it myself and years later I’m still not completely there. All I can do is spread the little knowledge that I do have. There is help. There are national and local hotlines. If you are contemplating suicide or suspect someone you know is considering it please call a hotline. There is always help. http://www.longislandcrisiscenter.org http://www.suicidology.org/home https://www.afsp.org