It is not a question I am contemplating pursuing except in thought so please don't worry.
I wonder if all parents or spouses don't wonder about this at some point while they heal, maybe even when you lose parents, siblings if you are incredibly close.
Healing is a slow painful process, as too many here know, and once in a while when you accept too much pain, too much knowing they are really gone, you find you can't breathe, you believe you can't hurt anymore and to end the pain is something you think about, not for a long time always, but still I know it ran through my mind with both my children's passing.
Some days are easy and you get through them, but then there are those days where you see them everywhere (the people who know say that is because they are deeply on your mind) and you keep reliving their last moments, last breath, from there you realize they have had their last birthday, Christmas, and it sucks you in like a backwards balloon until you feel like you can't possibly live without them.
It flashes through your mind quickly some times and you dismiss it but then there are the other times, the times that hurt so damn bad you can't quit crying, you fear you never will and you think farther about leaving to be with them or maybe just not be, so it quits hurting.
You cannot imagine life without them....
Then slowly you realize you still have children or pets, parents or a spouse who need you, who would feed the cat, pay the bills, drive the other children around and you realize that to leave them would be a waste of a life and you rationalize they really do need you to stay. What would your dying do too them?
You could also at this point ( okay fine "I" could also at this point) feel a pain here or there and think to yourself how would I feel RIGHT NOW if I were to discover I had an incurable disease. Would I be happy, do I really want my life to end, to never hear my children's voice, or see a sunrise, an ocean wave, my granddaughter?
I realize the pain is real, I miss my son horribly, I could always help him, I always helped him when he called but what I did letting him go was what he needed then. Does he understand?
If I let myself, I will go over every single moment leading up to his death, was he scared is my hardest question, the one that hurts the most. I couldn't stand the thought that my son was scared and even though I was there, offered him comfort held his hand it was not enough. I couldn't live with that.
The question of suicide...
It is not a question I am contemplating pursuing except in thought.
Image found here... http://dark-pictures.com/pics/imagelist/5/
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
V.Corso
Natalie K. Munden
janicephelpswilliams
WorkingSlob
Steel Breeze
OS Readers' Picks
Salon.com
Comments
One baby step at a time, one breath at a time, keep moving forward. We are here and I continue sending love, light and healing thoughts your way. (That includes all of your family.)
xoxo
You've expressed this journey with this piece so very well Terri :).
Rated for insight.
Do what you're doing and take it day by day.
Remember, whatever he felt then, his fear is gone now. I think that you have felt his presence is a sign he does understand.
There are too many beautiful things in life. There are a lot of hard things, which is why the thought hovers, but I usually find a person who would be sad if I were gone. Not to mention my cat.
Keep looking for the beautiful. You'll find it again. Virtual hug.
It's a tragedy the next generation finds almost impossible to overcome.
for that reason alone I would never take that act. I don't want my daughter to follow in the same example, no matter what my current pain.
Lezlie
I knew I would never do it but every night when I went to bed I would replay that old bedtime prayer. "If I should die before I wake" it would not be such a bad thing. I moved away from that dark place but I will never forget it. My heart and love and prayers go out to you at this time.
rated with love
The best analogy I've ever seen is that grieving any loss is like moving a giant pile of rice, one grain at a time. You don't get a shovel or even a spoon, you often don't even know how big the pile is. You just keep moving one damn grain at a time. You can turn your back on the pile for a while when you need to, but it will still be there until you move it.
Some day you'll realize it's smaller, and some day it will be moved. But no one can tell you when.
Matt Paust said it best--we all have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep.
We have your back, Terri.
Everyday I make myself laugh, even if I don't want to, even if I'm angry, tired or whatever. Its not easy, but it does help, even if for a little while.
Big hugs and please be good to yourself.
not at all, you sound like a grieving mom. (((LL2)))
keep writing
As I'm typing this, "What a wonderful world" comes on the radio. It's for you. I hope someday you will feel this way.
Poached from Wikipedia because I wanted something more solid than memories of high school essays:
"Absurdism:
The French-Algerian absurdist philosopher Albert Camus saw the goal of absurdism in establishing whether suicide was necessary in a world without God. For Camus, suicide was the rejection of freedom. He thinks that fleeing from the absurdity of reality into illusions, religion or death is not the way out. Instead of fleeing the absurd meaninglessness of life, we should embrace life passionately.
Existentialist Sartre describes the position of Meursault, the protagonist of Camus' L'Etranger who is condemned to death, in the following way:
The absurd man will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions ... and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the "divine irresponsibility" of the condemned man.[2]"
Citations:
Wiki article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosophy_of_suicide
I always helped him when he called
but what I did letting him go
was what he needed then.
Does he understand?
yes of course. stop worrying about it. he would say
"mom/ma/mother ,
wouldya cut it out?"
you know that.
this is the honor u do to a boy u gave life to
who loved life so much and fought so hard
to keep it but
had to let go.
life is about augmenting life.
any life u augment will be the richer for it.
cuz u are beautiful to the core, and also
becuz u know the WORST PAIN in the damn world,
the loss of a child.
you have such potential now to be
an empathic healer.
so dont waste it in selfishness.
love james
My road toward buddhism began slowly after my father died unexpectedly when I was in college. It was not an easy fix, or an answer, or an admonition to pray. It was tools for me to use to address my own suffering, and learn to have compassion for myself and others. I will not begin to pretend there is a podcast on there that will ease your pain, but I know that over time, just listening to him talk, I have internalized so much about letting go of the suffering part, sitting with the pain, accepting it for what it is, and allowing myself to feel it- instead of trying to swim away from it. Your son's death is an emotional tsunami. Somehow, you still get to live and feel all the hurt, and also remember the love. He's fine where he has gone, and surely he remains close by in heart and spirit. The pain will wash over you and ripple around and slowly wash away, and come back, and recede again, like more waves. There is no cure, and time heals but does not undo. One day, when you least expect it, you will wake up and your heart will feel less heavy. This is just how it works. One day, every day, gently, with compassion for yourself.
It would help me make sense of this in a strange twisted way.
I am going no where but if we don't speak of how we feel how will others know we all feel the same way?
Thank you everyone for standing with me as I don't think I could stand alone this time.
Speaking of, we stopped by the cemetery to "visit" Joe today, & took some rocks -- a few pieces of quartz -- & made a border. I love the elephant! (I don't know if you realize an elephant is part of the town's motto.)
I have no magic formula to offer for getting past sadness or despair. I have gone back to pretending he's in China. Today was even a shitty roadkill day. On the ride in to bowling, it looked like half the animals in the county must've wandered in front of a truck at the crack of dawn. I am having a hard time writing cheery Christmas cards, that's for damned sure.
Keep remembering that your family loves you. And there are so many wise, lovely comments on here! As for Joe being afraid, I really don't think he was, I think he was on another plane early on. We are all second-guessing how we could have had a better ending to his story here, but the truth is, we all did the best we could, the best we know. Sometimes holding a hand is all we can do. love you.
I'm glad you're not seriously contemplating suicide but the thoughts are natural and it's probably healthy for you to express them in writing. I hope our sympathetic responses give you at least a small amount of solace.
I am remembering, now, a dear friend. former teacher and later colleague of mine, ordained since his mid-twenties. He has been a chaplain in hospitals and prisons; faced all manner of darkness in the lives of others. When Rev. G's teenaged son died, though (a suicide) he was oh so lost. He tells me that he thought of "following" his son.
All this to say that no amount of wisdom, faith or enlightenment can "immunize" any of us against the depth of that sort of primary mourning pain. We just get through it, one moment at a time, and, somehow, we live for love, which is really the only reason that means anything.
I wish you solace and strength, with a growing awareness of the love that's still here for you, along with the love of your two wonderful sons, whose love for you is eternal...
~hug~
Rated!
Time doesn't heal or take away our pain, but it does soften the edges and give us a chance to work on acceptance.
Life is a journey for us all whether it be a short or longer road and as travellers we need to keep going to see what may lie ahead.
Keep writing and keep your faith.
Healing is a very long process - we know only in retrospect how we rushed towards it when the pain was so deep. May strength and patience be among your companions through your journey of grief.
R♥
You do not walk this grief alone, and those who are not experiencing it are being guided gently through it with you. With expression comes healing. You express and we all heal. Thank you.