Losing A Child to Suicide: A Sad Welcome

For as long as I have breath–and journey on–so does my child.

In the Beginning

Insides feel like outsides, and suddenly, nothing is real. Or matters–
Desperate, mind whirls around what makes sense. Nothing makes sense.

Not my child-

This has all been a big mistake.

Surely this isn’t-couldn’t be true.

Beth, Dylan’s Mom, My Forever Son

Grief Descends

A film descends. Covers thick. Shadows reality. Feels unreal. Filters truth like shadows. Hollow. Suspended disbelief. A wicked nightmare. Hell on earth. Protects you for now. 

A death by suicide is difficult to fathom. Impossible to grasp. “Why?!” “Dear God, Why?” People tell you they can’t imagine losing their child to suicide–that they couldn’t live without their child. This is, of course, none of it true. We can and do lose children to suicide, and yes, we can go on. In going on, our child does too.

I Stay–

For my child that breathed

For my child that loved-

For my child who now lives through me.

I live that my child might live too.

Beth Brown, My Forever Son

Keeping on Keeping on

Unfortunately, there are no short cuts to “healing,” to being able to even come to terms with wanting to keep on keeping on. One day, one hour, one breath at a time.

Grieving is painstakingly lonely. Intensely introspective. There are no wrong or right answers or ways to “do” this kind of grief.

Sometimes all we can do is hold on.

And so know you are held, from here, half the world over, around the corner, in your city, town, neighborhood, home.

When you lose your child, 
there is nothingness, 
the descent into the abyss 
of losing not just your child, 
but yourself as well.

Beth Brown, My Forever Son

Hold on to Hope

Remember just to breathe. I had to be reminded to breathe. Losing Dylan literally took my breath away.

One second at a time, one breath at a time, a grieving parent told me, means to carry your own child’s light to those who remember and to those who never had the joy or opportunity to know all the wonders of your child.

How Long Has It Been?

I have been at this journey  over 8 years. In the beginning, I didn’t even know how to survive the first week, month, year. I wanted to know what the first year is like, I wanted to hear from bereaved parents who have been there–and lived to tell.

I have read volumes, volumes! of everything everywhere by anybody who’s ever written and spoken out and about a parent’s grief, a survivor of suicide’s grief, the grieving process, suicide, bereavement. I have read (and continue to read) books, blogs, excerpts, whatever I can find, not just on suicide, but also on how to prevent it from happening to kids who still have a fighting chance. I know now that suicide takes a new life every 40 seconds. This is so, so sad.

I do not know if my son’s suicide could have been prevented. My own jury in my own head, heart, heartbreak, and sorrow are still out on that debate. Dylan struggled with depression, manic depression, so inaptly named “bipolar” in today’s jargon. He lived hell on earth battling demons in his head, and he fell into what so many young people fall into–self medicating with drugs and alcohol, in the end only fueling the enemies he so bravely fought against.

Dylan

Those who knew Dylan loved him. Fully, completely. He was a son, a best friend, a brother, a boyfriend, an academic scholar, a creative and gifted musician, a rock guitarist, a jazz pianist, the sun, joy, light, and moon of my world. Dylan was beautiful and brilliant. Unfortunately, that does not stop anybody, even teenagers and cusp of adulthood young adults, from getting sick. Really, really sick. And even dying from that sickness.

I live that my child might live, too.

I am here to say his name, share his memories, bring awareness that all illnesses can be fatal, including mental illness. Suicide is not a choice; Suicide–like all other illnesses–is the end result of all that medicine knows about treating illness not working.

And so know you are held, from here, half the world over, around the corner, in your city, town, neighborhood, home. If you have lost someone to suicide–if you have lost a child to suicide–then welcome to here where I call home.

I write as I live now, post-suicide, life forever changed, always a mom, still a mom, forever Dylan’s Mom, but as is, as now.

I post my struggles, hopes, insights, glimpses of “healing,” memories, relevant articles, essays, blogs, and facts about suicide, especially losing a child to suicide.

A sad welcome from one who knows. Hold on to Hope-

Beth, Dylan’s Mom