GarageKarate07
Wizard
- Aug 18, 2020
- 665
I looked all over to find this today. I could not get the right words into the search engine and even then the stories were about post suicide not the day of. A very hard story to find. This is what goes through all of our heads as we struggle with this topic. This is someone's actual story or so I'm guessing. I posted most of it here. It was hard to copy due to comercials/ads. This is hard. I feel bad putting this up here but this stuff in my view is just as needed as finding a better method and doing it right the first time. So much goes into the subject of death and wanting to leave this world. Making the conscious decision to leave all your loved ones and even then some of us don't have that or at least we feel we don't. This is very sad. I know you guys can take it but if it gets rough just take a break from reading for a minute if you need to. I love you guys. GK ❤
So first the link to the FULL story.
nationalpost.com
This next part is what I copied from around the ads and photos. I did this so you wouldn't have to leave SS but it was too hard. Sorry if it is not in order. I may have missed some. I'm also drunk. ❤
It had started the night before. Our son was at the cottage, and we'd spoken to him by phone that day. He assured us he'd be home in time for dinner. But he never arrived, and we couldn't reach him. It filled us with dread, and we called a neighbour at the cottage. He reported that all seemed well. Nothing was amiss.
That reassured us. No one wants to assume the worst right away. But I still had an instinct that something was wrong. The truck could have broken down, he might have a flat tire … there are so many perfectly innocuous explanations. We called the police that night, said we'd expected him hours before, tried to get some rest.
The next morning, our neighbour walked over to our cottage and found our son's body. He called our house and left a message to call him immediately. It would be several hours before we had final confirmation that our son had died at our cottage.
Bruce and I drove to our daughter Emily's high school. Having to tell our youngest child that her brother had died was so unfair. So out of the natural order of life. Our kids were supposed to grow old together. There was no easy way to deliver this bad news.
Bruce got out of the truck, slamming the door. I waited in the car. He disappeared into the school's foyer and within a few minutes appeared on the steps at the front of the school. Emily was with him. I got out of the truck and walked towards them. Emily was shaking and her face was red from crying. She looked helplessly at me. I was her mom but I couldn't make this better for her
.
"Mom, did Daniel die? What's going on?" I nodded because I couldn't speak. "Is that why we didn't hear from him last night?" I nodded. "Oh, Daniel," she sobbed. She got into the truck and dropped her head into her hands.
We got back on the road, headed toward London to pick up Aimee, who was a university student there. Our crying sounded like soft chants. As parents there was nothing we could do to change our circumstances. We were now a family of four, not five
.
As Bruce drove I climbed over the console into the backseat so that I could hold Emily in my arms. During our drive Aimee tried calling us several times. She knew that we had not been able to reach her brother and she was worried. Aimee had contacted many of Daniel's friends the night before and they hadn't heard from him, either. Because we didn't answer, Aimee began to fear the worst. Each time one of our cellphones buzzed, I said, "Please don't answer the call." But Emily felt differently.
"Aimee and I texted this morning," she explained. "She is so upset. If we don't answer her it will make things worse. We should answer her. Don't you think?"
"Emily, I understand," I replied. "But we don't know if Aimee is alone or if someone is with her. We'll be there soon. I know she's waiting to hear from us, but we have to tell her about Daniel in person."
When we finally arrived at Aimee's apartment, there were U-haul moving vans everywhere. The school year was ending, and parents were running in and out of the apartment building trying to get their kids packed up for summer. Aimee was upstairs in her unit, so Bruce and Emily took the one available elevator to her floor. When they got off the elevator they walked down the hall toward her apartment door, which was propped open with packed boxes and garbage bins. When Aimee saw her sister's and her dad's desperate expressions, she understood. Immediately, Bruce reached his arms out and cradled his now eldest child.
"Aimee, I'm so sorry hon, but it's not good," he told her.
"What?" Aimee replied. "Dad, what happened?"
"The police said that sometime last night Daniel, took his life at the cottage."
Aimee, like so many other people, denied the first shocking words. She couldn't accept it, and wanted it to be untrue. Slowly, Aimee came to understand that Daniel had slipped away from us in the night. We had gone from being an ordinary family to survivors of suicide.
The four of us drove back home in silence. There were no words for the unimaginable feelings we had in those few hours on the road.
As we turned onto our street I dreaded the thought of walking into our house. Our home, the home that held so many wonderful family memories, now contained death.
A police cruiser sat in front of our house with two officers, whose job description included notifying parents of their child's suicide. They had to tell us officially, but I'd already heard the news once that day. I wasn't going to hear it again from the police. As they walked toward us I ran to the side door, opened it and then shut it quickly behind me. My brother was inside, and I fell sobbing into his arms. He promised me that he'd be there for us.
The real world's response to a suicide is to try and be supportive of those who are dealing first-hand with loss. But the real world goes on in spite of your tragedy. Meanwhile, we the newly bereaved, remain stuck in the moment that our world changed. And we aren't always able to reach out for help. What we need we can't have
.
I walked out to the backyard and sat on one of the stone steps. The garden was coming alive in the heat of the late spring. The grass below my feet felt cool as I rocked side to side, holding the pain in my arms. I needed the fresh air; hoped it would clear my head. I remember feeling like our family was literally dissolving. How do I live in this world without my child
?
So first the link to the FULL story.
Lynn Keane: The day my son committed suicide
Author Lynn Keane on her family's struggle to recover from a family tragedy that no one saw coming
This next part is what I copied from around the ads and photos. I did this so you wouldn't have to leave SS but it was too hard. Sorry if it is not in order. I may have missed some. I'm also drunk. ❤
It had started the night before. Our son was at the cottage, and we'd spoken to him by phone that day. He assured us he'd be home in time for dinner. But he never arrived, and we couldn't reach him. It filled us with dread, and we called a neighbour at the cottage. He reported that all seemed well. Nothing was amiss.
That reassured us. No one wants to assume the worst right away. But I still had an instinct that something was wrong. The truck could have broken down, he might have a flat tire … there are so many perfectly innocuous explanations. We called the police that night, said we'd expected him hours before, tried to get some rest.
The next morning, our neighbour walked over to our cottage and found our son's body. He called our house and left a message to call him immediately. It would be several hours before we had final confirmation that our son had died at our cottage.
Bruce and I drove to our daughter Emily's high school. Having to tell our youngest child that her brother had died was so unfair. So out of the natural order of life. Our kids were supposed to grow old together. There was no easy way to deliver this bad news.
Bruce got out of the truck, slamming the door. I waited in the car. He disappeared into the school's foyer and within a few minutes appeared on the steps at the front of the school. Emily was with him. I got out of the truck and walked towards them. Emily was shaking and her face was red from crying. She looked helplessly at me. I was her mom but I couldn't make this better for her
.
"Mom, did Daniel die? What's going on?" I nodded because I couldn't speak. "Is that why we didn't hear from him last night?" I nodded. "Oh, Daniel," she sobbed. She got into the truck and dropped her head into her hands.
We got back on the road, headed toward London to pick up Aimee, who was a university student there. Our crying sounded like soft chants. As parents there was nothing we could do to change our circumstances. We were now a family of four, not five
.
As Bruce drove I climbed over the console into the backseat so that I could hold Emily in my arms. During our drive Aimee tried calling us several times. She knew that we had not been able to reach her brother and she was worried. Aimee had contacted many of Daniel's friends the night before and they hadn't heard from him, either. Because we didn't answer, Aimee began to fear the worst. Each time one of our cellphones buzzed, I said, "Please don't answer the call." But Emily felt differently.
"Aimee and I texted this morning," she explained. "She is so upset. If we don't answer her it will make things worse. We should answer her. Don't you think?"
"Emily, I understand," I replied. "But we don't know if Aimee is alone or if someone is with her. We'll be there soon. I know she's waiting to hear from us, but we have to tell her about Daniel in person."
When we finally arrived at Aimee's apartment, there were U-haul moving vans everywhere. The school year was ending, and parents were running in and out of the apartment building trying to get their kids packed up for summer. Aimee was upstairs in her unit, so Bruce and Emily took the one available elevator to her floor. When they got off the elevator they walked down the hall toward her apartment door, which was propped open with packed boxes and garbage bins. When Aimee saw her sister's and her dad's desperate expressions, she understood. Immediately, Bruce reached his arms out and cradled his now eldest child.
"Aimee, I'm so sorry hon, but it's not good," he told her.
"What?" Aimee replied. "Dad, what happened?"
"The police said that sometime last night Daniel, took his life at the cottage."
Aimee, like so many other people, denied the first shocking words. She couldn't accept it, and wanted it to be untrue. Slowly, Aimee came to understand that Daniel had slipped away from us in the night. We had gone from being an ordinary family to survivors of suicide.
The four of us drove back home in silence. There were no words for the unimaginable feelings we had in those few hours on the road.
As we turned onto our street I dreaded the thought of walking into our house. Our home, the home that held so many wonderful family memories, now contained death.
A police cruiser sat in front of our house with two officers, whose job description included notifying parents of their child's suicide. They had to tell us officially, but I'd already heard the news once that day. I wasn't going to hear it again from the police. As they walked toward us I ran to the side door, opened it and then shut it quickly behind me. My brother was inside, and I fell sobbing into his arms. He promised me that he'd be there for us.
The real world's response to a suicide is to try and be supportive of those who are dealing first-hand with loss. But the real world goes on in spite of your tragedy. Meanwhile, we the newly bereaved, remain stuck in the moment that our world changed. And we aren't always able to reach out for help. What we need we can't have
.
I walked out to the backyard and sat on one of the stone steps. The garden was coming alive in the heat of the late spring. The grass below my feet felt cool as I rocked side to side, holding the pain in my arms. I needed the fresh air; hoped it would clear my head. I remember feeling like our family was literally dissolving. How do I live in this world without my child
?
