"My daughter died.”
“How did she die?”
“She committed suicide.”
Most people express their sympathy but do not probe further.
However, more often than I expected:
“How did she do it?” Followed by protestations of denial and disbelief.
Mom says she wants to retort “Why? Do you want to try it too?”
Why do people disturb our grief with inappropriate questions? Today’s meditation from Meditations for Survivors of Suicide included the following statement: “Cherish the good times; embrace the bad experiences your loved one knew; learn from them but then let them go.”
Looking through Jolene’s pictures, we remember the good times, the happy, joyful girl whom everyone loved. Reading the poetry, we recognize the inner pain she felt so often, almost constantly, in fact. But the one bad experience that troubles me now is the manner of her death.
Jolene didn’t just commit suicide. She hung herself.
I prayed about it this morning. I wouldn’t feel happier or at more at peace if she had gone a different way. But the thought of the agony she endured scratches my soul. I’m not sure if I should try to push it down or take it out, dust it off, and examine it in the clear light of day.
Well, I must have decided to take it out of the box, at least for a few minutes. Because feelings don’t stay pushed down; they leak out, often at inappropriate times. And this blog is my safety zone.
It makes no real difference. Nothing I do or say or think or feel will change the facts. She is with God, at peace, beyond physical and emotional pain. However awful the manner of her death, it is over.
Nonetheless, I ache about it. Mom aches about it. Pray with us for peace about it, please?