June 4 is my eldest sister’s birthday. 16 years ago today, it was also the day she died. Self-inflicted murder - a.k.a. “suicide”.
Now, I don’t want to dredge up all the details, and I didn’t put this here for a thread of sympathies and “I’m so sorry”. No, really - c’mon, it’s been sixteen years, it’s hardly a fresh wound we’re talking about.
Nope, why I’m doing this: I know from experience that while some pains can’t ever really go away, a small kindness can lighten the burden.
So please - in memory of my sister - do something nice. Just a small kindness will suffice. Give your dog an extra pat on the head, praise a child, call your parents and tell them you love them, give someone you love a flower… just any small thing. So I know that today, and maybe tomorrow, too, the world will be a slightly better place, even if my sister is no longer in it.
My husband did a very nice thing for me today. He took me to see Snoqualmie. I’ve lived in the Northwest most of my life, but never had the opportunity to see the falls. It was a complete surprise. He woke me up at 5:30 this morning and bundled me into the truck.
After seeing the falls shrouded in fog, feeling the ultra-fine mist, he took me to breakfast at the lodge.
The reasone he gave? Yesterday, I told him I’d dreamed about my son, who suicided in 2000. He said he needed to do something, not to replace the dream, but to help it feel positive.
I love him.
I promise, I will take an arm load of flowers from my garden, to my 85 year old neighbor, as soon as I sign off.
I gave my 16-year old daughter to apply for her first job, at Dairy Queen. (not really a "good deed,’ just a dad errand). She was really exicted, and all her school friends behind the counter made a big deal about her coming in. I stayed in the background because this is one of those first “moving away” steps, but also because I was tearing up since this is the first rite of passage that her mother will miss since she killed herself four months ago.
For all of us who’ve lost someone to suicide, please offer the kindness of understanding that we don’t always process what was often such an irrational act in a rational manner ourselves. Because she and I were separated for such long months back when I was in the navy, my mind falls into the “I miss you” pattern it used then, not the final missing that’s come after her death, and I can’t understand the fact that she’s dead; not just gone. At these times I don’t wonder why she’s dead but rather why I’m still here.
But some times the grim humor we both shared comes back and it’s a sign that life goes on: for example; last month was both Mother’s Day and what would have been her birthday, both on the same weekend. I bought one of those grave wreaths for my daughter to put up on the wall above her ashes. I caught myself thinking “well, if nothing else you’re finally become easy to shop for.”