EDICIUS

When I look back at all of my own failed attempts, I realize that I survived for two reasons.

First, I am able to relate to the feelings that many of my clients carry--the hopelessness, struggling to face each day, and trying to overcome depression that crushes the spirit. I, too, have walked in those shoes and know that just "putting on a happy face" does not make it all go away. I think that having lived through those emotions makes it much easier to sympathize with what my clients face.

Second, I help many people that have lost others to suicide. I work with families and individuals that have lost loved ones to suicide. Sometimes they are unable to understand what drives another to such lengths. I do know. My own losses and surviving also enable me to offer ways to cope and proof that it is possible to move forward again. I know that there is no timeline for grief and my own pain and tears may sometimes surface when working with families, but also assures them that I have been there and do not take their pain lightly.

Sometimes life does not feel possible. Sometimes grief is overwhelming. All that I can do is use my own experiences to ease the pain others are suffering through. Sometimes it is all any of us can do. It isn't always easy to see the positive when we are in the middle of the heartbreaks, but time does heal and if we can use these sorrows to help others, then we are doing what we were meant to. So much of the human experience is reaching out and guiding others when they fall. While my own heartbreaks have been many and at times seemed impossible to move beyond, I am still grateful that those life lessons help me to be a better person and that I can use them for good.

We had a young man commit suicide in our community, this week. He just turned twenty and touched so many lives in his short time on Earth. I remember him from working with other kiddos in his classes when he was in fourth, fifth and sixth grade. I remember him as being quiet, polite and overall, a nice kid. I ran into him again this past Halloween and didn't realize it until after he committed suicide. It is so hard to make sense of.

I dreamed about him the night it happened. I dreamed that I took him to visit his younger sister and they were hugging, smiling and posing for pictures together. From there, we went to his memorial service. He was on a stage, singing, but the other visitors were unable to see him or hear him. The song was beautiful and he explained what drove him to suicide and at one point, John Lennon joined him in the singing. Johnny Cash was also involved in the memorial. I woke up shortly after and found myself unable to back to sleep.

I don't know his family. But I do know many of the other lives he touched, some briefly--some deeply. I wonder if he knows how many people he touched?

Tonight, I worked with one of my families touched deeply by suicide. I watched one of the daughters come home from the viewing and watched as her mother held her and cried. I watched the pain from this suicide rip open their own wounds from the one they are struggling so hard to move past. So many in our little community over the past few years--how they unleash past pains and add new ones. Suicide is so hard to move beyond. The personal guilt, the loss of the loved one, the violence witnessed--good lords. How to move beyond it. I don't think one ever truly does.

I think of my Ken. How many years has it been now? Fifteen? Somewhere around there. Sunday, I cried for him and my mom. Ken hung himself over a girlfriend. I didn't find out until several years after the fact--we had lost touch in my multiple moves. I still cry over him on a regular basis. I still think of him when certain songs come on the radio. I still open the books he gave me and smell them. I suppose that may seem sick and I can hear my father in the 302 report stating that I cry over my mom and people that have passed like it is some disease worthy of committing me to a state hospital. But the truth is, these things help me cope. I don't see it as a sin to still cry and I am okay with still missing them and never wanting to forget them. They were a part of my life; I will always miss them. This makes me human. Grief has no time lines. I know and accept this. Some days are better than others; some days still hurt deeply.

Suicide was a path I tried many times. For some reason, I am still here. I look at the young man, this week and my heart breaks for his friends, his family, and for him. My own attempts occurred between the ages of fifteen and early twenties. If only I could go back and show the girl I was then, the life I would later have. Not to say it has been all sunshine and roses, indeed--nowhere close. But there have been so many amazing moments, moments that I stopped and thanked the Gods that I am still here, that I am still alive. I look at the families that I work with and know that I am a part of their recovery. If only, if only...

You never know what tomorrow holds. Sometimes the pains of today do seem as though they will be forever; that it is impossible to move forward. But we must move forward. One foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult.

I wonder, for him, what his future may have held and it breaks my heart.

If only we could be given a glimpse into the pain that we put our loved ones through by committing suicide... Would it even be possible to inflict such pains if we knew?

R.I.P., K.A.--may you find the sunshine on the other side; may your friends and family find comfort in each other and your memory...