It’s almost 8 years to the day now when I got the call, that mom needed to come over to tell me something, and seated in the worn-out dingy couch on the porch, dark outside, the words spilling from her into me, something that could not be taken back, something final, a new reality shocked into me.
I remember somehow taking it so well, the determination to be strong overcoming any flirtation with falling apart or to pieces about it. It was his decision, and that’s what he did, he is no longer in pain, there’s nothing that can be done about it and we’ll be ok.
The bullets can’t go back in the gun, the gin back in the bottle, the note back to a blank page, my stepmother’s vision, the blood splattered to the wall.
Somehow I was able to manage this, mostly alone, as an only child and mother’s mental state succumbing to early-onset alzheimers.
But I was ok.
Sure I had my routine moments of scream/crying out loud, outbursts as a sort of release valve, but I’d carry on.
For 7 years I felt I had it mostly under control, then I met someone who’s father also committed suicide, and it’s not to say it’s her fault, but it’s like there was something in finally letting go this need to carry this burden, that this other person understood everything, and I understand her, and it sort of opens up this flood gate.
We fall in love, but it’s tumultuous and damaging, up and down, up and down, we’re together, we’re not together, we’re talking, we’re not talking, but we always love each other, no matter how much one hurts the other..
And just throughout our ups and downs, it steadily leads me to this dark dark place, one I’ve never known before, one that I feel for the first time can truly empathize with my father’s and cousin’s decision.
I hate that it’s come to this, after 7 years of being relatively stable, this delayed falling apart…I don’t know, think may hike the Pacific Crest Trail come April.
Hope you are all well
5 comments
Im sorry things happened that way. One of my best friends from Childhood… his mom committed suicide when he was about 12 years of age. I knew another guy that I was friends with in college and his dad committed suicide and left the family devastated. It can e rough on kids when a parent dies on them and even rougher when they find out they died by suicide. I am sorry to hear of your losses. I hope things get better or you and you find peace.
Thank you for the kind words PC43. It is rough, at times rougher than others, coming and going in waves, but never gone. This year’s just been rougher than years past.
Your writing is eloquent and touching. I believe you may have a gift for prose. Hang in there; your words could change lives.
I wish I could’ve offered some advice, but let me say,
as noleafclover stated,
You’re words were inspiring. I read every single word and even bookmarked this page because the writing style is magnificent. Even before that, the title is intriguing. Your writing ability…I know this would sound absurd to you, but can you PLEASE create stories here, or even if it was your personal stories, it’d be amazing to be so captivated by your work.
I know this will sound ABSOLUTELY crazy, but I’d LOVE to read a book of yours if you ever created one. Maybe you should use writing as a source of distraction, soon to become a passion. Please try it! I hope my words inspired you just as much as your work inspired me to write. Even little works are still going to be amazing. You’re marvelous at writing 🙂
To GTSuicide_6 and noleafclover, that is so kind of both of you. Writing has been a hobby off and on throughout the years, not all of it good of course, but your posts are very encouraging. Have come to find quite a number of people here able to keep me hanging on their every word, Alan Onominous and Resentful to name a few. Maybe there could be a compilation of “The Best of Suicide Project” published someday.