I remember getting the call and a co-worker walking me down to my car. She offered to drive me but I just wanted to be alone. I got in my car and started to drive home and just sobbed. I called a couple of friends and family members to to let them know and I headed home. I pulled up the same time as my husband and we just fell into each other's arms and cried. My mom was over in Colorado visiting us and was in the house and had no idea yet. We had both been through this 18 years ago when my little brother took his life at the age of 27. We walked in and told her and we all just cried together. I didn't feel like it is real. I felt like someone was going to come and tell me that it was a mistake. She really wasn't gone. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up and it would all be a dream. The word started to spread and people started to come over to the house.
With any death there is a deep sadness, but with a suicide there are so many more emotions that come along with it. The anger and guilt are overwhelming. People would just hug you and say "I'm sorry, I don't know what to say", then they would ask what you needed. What I needed was for my daughter to be alive. No one could give me that. Other than that, I didn't have a clue what I needed. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be left alone or if I wanted to be with people. I have never cried so hard in my life. I spent so much time on my knees that day just praying to understand and to be able to know that she was ok. One of my sons was angry as well as heartbroken. The other one was just trying to be supportive and explain it to his little ones in the best way possible. My husband was trying to get me through it as well as grieving himself. He was trying to be strong and feeling the guilt that comes along with a suicide. I was in survival mode and just putting one foot in front of the other. A couple of things that I learned during this grieving process. One is that someone brought over several different deli meats, cheeses, rolls, potato chips, etc. She said that someone had brought these things to her once and what a blessing it had been. You can make sandwiches any time, you don't have to prepare a meal, just make sandwiches, day or night. This definitely is "food for thought" pun intended. The Saturday after Kami's memorial service, I fell apart. I had the grandbabies sleep over the night before and then they left Saturday morning. I had hurt my sciatic nerve about 4 days before Kami died and my back was killing me. My house needed to be cleaned from all of the company we had staying with us the week before. I was still in my pajamas at 12:30 in the afternoon. A friend stopped by and brought me a little gift and checked on me and just sat and talked to me and cried with me. After she left, I struggled to finish cleaning the house. What I learned during this process is, if someone would have come and said "can I vacuum your house, mop your floors, clean your bathrooms", I would have said yes. I never would be the person that would say yes... That day I would have said yes. I guess I learned that instead of asking "what can I do" sometimes it is good to "just do". Once the family was gone and I was supposed to get back to my every day life, I didn't want to face it. Some days it hurts to breathe. The pain of child birth is nothing compared to the pain of losing my child. I keep thinking of the many things that Kami will miss out on. Her little nieces and nephews that she left behind will not get the chance to know their Aunt Kami. Some days I can go for 5 or 10 minutes without thinking about her. She is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I try and sleep. I lay awake and think about her. When it first happened, I didn't want to be in a dark room at night. I needed a light on somewhere. I don't know why, I kept thinking about Kami's last moments alone and the darkness overwhelmed me. I get out of bed each morning and go to work and go through the day as if I'm ok. I'm really not ok. Some days I'm closer to ok but some days the tears are right there and flow freely. What I have learned is that there is no manual on grieving just like there is no manual on parenting. Everyone grieves in their own way and there is no right or wrong way. I used to have a license plate frame that said "Get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on". That is what I am doing right now, I am holding on. Hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.
No comments:
Post a Comment