Tag Archive | suicide

Hell

Nov13

Remembering is hard.
Remembering helps me see Gods faithfulness through tragedy.
Remembering sensitizing me.
Remembering cultivates gratitude.
God help me with this balancing act of Pain and Joy

Busch Gardens Tampa May, 2012

Busch Gardens Tampa May, 2012


TWHS Rock

TWHS Rock


Choose a funeral home.
Breathe.
Write an obituary. What days?
Call dad.
Cremation?
Choose an urn.
Call doctor. Get sleeping pills.
Viewing first?
Pray.
What will he wear? Oh God no make it stop. This isn’t happening. I just bought him those shoes. No. Not for this. No God.
Pull weeds.
Crack jokes.
Self protect.
Photo boards.
Songs.
Where to have the funeral.
Breathe.
Call Nissan.
Paycheck arrived. Fuck. Already closed bank account online. Cry hard at Huntington. Hate seeing people. Write “deceased.”
Pamphlet. Pictures.
Visit dad.
Write down medicine consumption.
Too many questions. I don’t know what I want to eat, who I want here, if I want the blinds open. I don’t fucking know. Stop asking so much of me.
Cancel phone.
Delete from favorites? Fuck. Not now.
Call dentist. Oh God.
Call Fidelity.
Cancel auto insurance. Explain why. Fuck.
Candle light vigil. Can I handle it? I’ll decide just before it starts.
Can’t shave my legs. Too shaky. Call mom – need nair.
Can’t answer phone.
Want to let people know I’m grateful they’re reaching out. Can’t talk. Send an email?
Read the cards or wait?
Where do we want donations to go?
People saying stupid things.
Will I speak at funeral?
Who will do funeral?
Soccer game memorial.
Don’t throw away milk carton. Drey held it.
Smell his clothes. Breathe him in.
Pray.
How’s Fred?
Cobalt. Fuck.
Too many decisions.
It hurts bad.
It can’t be real.
Make it stop.
Let me die.

How do I pray?

Nov12

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the number of people I’ve met through a suicide loss that I shut down and don’t know how to pray for them at all.   I knew maybe 3 or 4 people as of August.  But now just 3 months later I’ve met dozens, dozens. 

1 Thes 5: 16-18  “Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”

I am thankful for how You’ve been softening my heart, God.  I am thankful for how You’ve shown me it’s far better to live by Your priorities than what mine were.  So maybe that’s what you mean by being thankful in all circumstances.  Your word doesn’t say to be thankful FOR the circumstance… but IN the circumstance.  Yes, thank You for pointing that out to me!  Yes!

vs 17… “Never stop praying.”  I talk to You all day throughout the day.  My problem in this season isn’t prayer in the broad sense of the word – it’s that I don’t shut up long enough to hear You.  Praying is communication.  Communication is talking and listening.   

How do I pray for so many people?  People I’ve met just a handful of times?  People with unique circumstances, painful losses.  I picture their faces.  I picture them in the setting where I met them.  Their tears.  Their anger.  Their guilt and confusion.  The look of shock on their faces.  There’s no making sense of life now.

Rom 8:26 “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

Matt 5:4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  God help them grieve.  Bless them as they mourn.  Comfort them.   Help them do the “next thing” whatever that may be.  Reach out to someone else who’s hurting, get out of bed, draw closer to You, take a breath.  Whatever the “next thing” is.  I pray these things for each person.  Thank You for loving them far more than I ever could and for meeting them exactly where they are.  Thank You for knowing exactly what they need, Father. 

S who lost her son 10 years ago. C who lost her husband last month. R&N who lost their son 6 years ago.  M&J who lost their son 4 years ago.  D who lost her boyfriend last year.  W who lost both her mom and her husband.  M and M who both lost people close to them . M&G who lost their son. V who lost her sister. R who lost her son. V who lost her husband and for her two small children.  J who lost her husband last year.  The older couple who just lost their son.  A who lost her friend 3 years ago . D&J who just lost their brother.  L who just lost her husband.  The entire M family – especially S, Dad and husband who lost their dear daughter and wife K just last weekend.  J&R who lost J 6 years ago.  B who I will meet tomorrow and her 2 kids – they just lost husband/dad 6 weeks ago.  D&S and D’s family as they mourn the one year loss of D.  K as she continues grieving for her Super N.  MA for the loss of Ski.  B for loss of his father 20+ years ago.  Thank you for his servant heart towards helping others learn to live again.  For J and the loss of her daughter just 30 months ago.  C who lost her Mom years ago.  MBSS blogger.  And I pray for Fred, Robbie, David, Kris, my parents and Fred’s parents, Drey’s dear friends… Jeritt, Jayson, Austin, Robby, Max, Ryan, Alli, Morgan, Bethaney, Cary, Jenna, Kevin, Britney, Molly, Alec, Ben, Addie, Peiman, Ian, Josh, Grace, Gabe, Victoria and so many more.  Thank You for knowing everyone I’ve neglected to pray specifically for on this chilly Tuesday morning, Father.   Thank You for the crisp white snow that blankets my patio.  Thank You for filling me up yet again with Your love, peace and compassion.  Truly those who mourn are blessed and comforted.

“I’m calling to see how you’ve been doing since graduating high school…”

Nov8

I got a phone call yesterday.  Thankfully I didn’t hear the phone so it went to voice mail.  The message was for Drey.  It was from a Marine recruiter… “This message is for Fred Meine – I’m calling to see how you’ve been doing since graduating high school…”  Stop.  Delete.  Not sure what else was said after that.  I talked my lunch into returning from my throat back into my stomach.  Then somehow by the grace of God I was able to thank God we don’t have a landline that Drey would’ve shared with people.  Thank You.  There are so many hard circumstances we are faced with daily.   But I can be very grateful that telling a stranger over the phone that Drey’s gone is not something I’ve had to do since those first few months.  Thank You, God! 

I so want to be a grateful person.  Truly I do.  God is it ever hard.  It’s hard not to question You.  Sometimes I wonder if I failed to meet Your expectations somehow.  What other logical explanation is there for why a good God would allow the one thing I love above all else in this world to be taken from me?  To teach me a lesson?  To teach me YOU are my God and not my son?  To teach me my husband is more important than I ever treated him?  I fight these thoughts.  At the root of them is not only a lie about You but I’m also blaming myself for Drey’s death.   I fight these thoughts with gratitude.  I fight these thoughts with the knowledge that evil does exist.  We do have an enemy.  He plants lies – accuses You, God, of wrongdoing.  I fight these thoughts with the knowledge that this is NOT our permanent home.  Eternity is a long, long, time and in light of eternity this pain will be a “light and momentary affliction.”  But God I get so weary.  So discouraged.  It’s stuck to me.  This loss, this horrible tragedy.  I physically wear it, carry it on my shoulders, my neck, sometimes my face.  It’s like a scarf.  It’s everywhere I go.   Sometimes it’s so tight it’s suffocating.  I wear it when it’s appropriate but also when it’s not – but I have no choice because it’s part of my very being now.  I wear it when I go swimming.  People look.  People wonder.  That’s odd – why not take that off?  It’s heavy and cold around my neck when I get out to dry off.  Other times it’s veil-like.  Everything I look at is muted – tinted in sorrow. Will it ever come off in this lifetime? Or will I just learn how to wear it with grace and beauty?

Wow. I am really melancholy today. It’s time to go for a run…

You look so sad.

Nov6

“You look so sad.”
Do you say that because you don’t think I should be sad anymore? Perhaps you’re judging my grief?
Do you say that because you want to let me know you notice, you care? And you just don’t know what else to say?
Yes, I’m sad. The emptiness that’s left where my baby’s ornery laughter used to be will be with me until I’m in heaven. And sometimes the emptiness is on the surface for others to see.
But don’t tell me, “you look so sad.” It just isn’t helpful. I fight every day against thoughts that say no one wants me around because it’s too hard to see me. It’s too heavy to be around me and be reminded of the great loss. To be forced to consider “how would I handle it if it were my child?” I see the looks on peoples faces. And I know who avoids me. I can’t make it ok for you. That’s not my job.
It is my job to fight for gratitude. And when the bad thoughts form in my mind it is my job to tell satan to f-off. It is my job to surround myself with family and friends that recognize I’m in the fight and encourage me.
It’s not your job to say the perfect thing. It isn’t your job to always get it right.
It is my job to learn to forebear.
It is my job to say, “That was hurtful. That was hard to hear.”
Can you handle it?
These things are my job because I want them to be. Not because I have no choice. I have a choice. I choose gratitude over bitterness.

What’s in a worldview?

Oct28

I went through the exercise of thinking through and writing out my worldview a few years before Drey died… it was part of a Leadership Core workshop I had taken where we explored what we believed, what our strengths were, and how our beliefs and strengths aligned with how we were actually spending our life.  It was a great exercise.  Here’s what my worldview was:

I believe God is loving, all knowing, dependable, and consistent.  I believe I will go to heaven when I died.  Not because of who I am or what I’ve done but because of who He is and what He’s done.  I value truth, integrity, and transparency.  Being successful externally comes easily for me.  I have several gifts, talents, and strengths.  I love to organize things, to set up processes, and to plan.  I love to set goals and accomplish them.  Bringing closure makes me feel fulfilled.  Being pleased with myself internally is more challenging and requires deliberate ongoing focus.  My tendency is to judge myself and others.  I want to have a positive impact on those around me – family, friends, coworkers and ministry partners.  I am highly dependable. 

After spending the past 14 months grieving the death of my pride and joy here is what I believe about the world, about life:

I believe God is perfect and we can know truth, right from wrong, because of Him.
I believe God is love, all knowing, dependable, and consistent.
I believe God is a perfect judge.
God created us in His image and with free will to choose as we want to choose.
We are sons and daughters of the King if we choose Him, if we choose to acknowledge our inadequacies and need for a perfect savior. 
Truly living as sons and daughters of the King must be done in complete dependence on Him.  It is an ongoing decision to live in dependence.  Not just day by day but minute by minute.
I have a God-given desire for things to be made right.
The ruler of the world we currently live in is Satan – the enemy of God.  Therefore nothing works as it was originally designed.  Nature, people, relationships, animals, life (death).
The deadliest trick Satan ever plays is convincing us that he does not exist.  This keeps us from knowing the real truth and keeps us from loving others with urgency.
We are in the middle of a spiritual war.
God will set things right.  Until that time He wants us to fight in the war.  We do this by loving others in complete dependence on Him.
When we live apart from dependence on God we do not have the full picture, we do not have accurate knowledge, and we operate out of a sense of need rather than being sacrificially others-focused. 
Everyone wakes up every day incapable of any good, Godly, eternal thing apart from the Holy Spirit.
We are born with a need to be known, accepted, significant, and loved.
I believe everyone lives with a “you’re not ____ enough” voice in our minds.  This is fear.
I believe when we’re honest with others about our fears we can experience connection, maybe even a little peace.
I believe when we live with integrity, transparency, and honesty, it can cause others to feel safe to be themselves – to be truly known.
God wants to love us through other people and wants to love other people through us.
Most of our days are filled with inconsequential thoughts, worries, and actions.  We need God and His work through others to show us what’s important – to keep us focused.
Selflessly loving others (with the knowledge that we are perfectly accepted, known, loved, and significant) is the ultimate humbling buzz. When it happens we know full well it did not come from our own power!
Joy and pain can coexist.
Suffering is an opportunity to strengthen our faith.  Whether that faith is in ourselves, God, or something else, is up to us.  Suffering is polarizing.
“I don’t know” is powerful.  I do not have to have all the answers in order to love someone.
Listening is more important than speaking.
Everyone has a lot to learn.
 
Why was it important for me to revisit my worldview?  Because losing Drey has rocked my world – broken me, shattered me.  EVERYTHING has had to be re-visited – especially what I believe about God and life.  It’s been helpful in my journey of healing.  I’ve dedicated significant mind-time to this which has included writing it out and getting challenging feedback.  Writing out my worldview has helped me to truly “own” it.   As a result I’ve become more aware of the gaps between what I truly believe vs my actions, choices and thought-life.  This is still a work in progress no doubt.  But my worldview is deeper and far more real to me now than it was before Drey died.  
 
I am a fighter.  I will learn to thrive – not just survive – after this tragedy.  It takes time, patience, perseverance.   I’m Yours, God.

Gratitude without guilt.

Oct27

Journal from last year – October 27 2012:

I’m here at Cherry Valley Lodge with Robbie.  I had what I think is an anxiety attack this morning.  I miss you so, so much.  It began with remembering the 2nd grade field trip with Mrs. Morse to High Banks Park.  It was in the fall.  On the trail we saw the guts of some small animal – maybe a rodent of some sort.  Everyone was so fascinated.  I enjoyed going on your field trips.

Sometimes I think I’ll die from this pain.  How can someone carry this depth of pain day after day, week after week, and now month after month?

Can you see me, baby?  Can you hear me?  How can I live this life without you?  I view everything through you.  Memories don’t bring me comfort or joy.  They ache.  They bring tears.  When will that change?  Will there come a time when I look back on this journal?  What will I feel then?  What will I feel when I look back on this Cherry Valley Lodge weekend?  Will I wonder how I’ve survived?  Will I still be in the same depth of pain?  Will God use me somehow?  Will I experience peace in knowing God is redeeming this horrible thing and I’m playing a role in it?

Today:  I haven’t had a panic attack – or whatever I should call it – in about a month now.   I want to be grateful for the decreased frequency in panic attacks.  I want to be grateful that I don’t sob every day anymore.   But it’s hard to allow myself to feel grateful for God’s slow but tender hands of healing.  What kind of Mom am I if I’m feeling grateful for my life?   Some have said, “Drey would want you to be happy.”  Maybe.  But it doesn’t really matter because he’s not here.   

I remember last summer a motorcycle driven by a young man came flyin up on my butt when I was driving on 315.  I got out of his way and he sped by.  “At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”  Oh My God.  I couldn’t believe that was really the thought that popped into my head?!   Then I beat myself up in a major way… “Yea – lucky you.  Your son’s already dead so you don’t have to worry about him getting in a motorcycle accident.  How sick, Denise.  What kind of Mom are you?  Did you even love him?” 

I feel like there’s a war going on inside myself… there’s part of me that feels amazingly blessed and can rattle off so many reasons why I am blessed.  I’ll see my son again, I have a wonderful husband, I love my family,  I love my friends, I love God more than I ever have, I’m not paralyzed by pain anymore, I can spend time doing what I want to do rather than worrying about bringing home money for our living expenses, I’ve met so many people who are suicide survivors and am grateful for each them.  Then there’s part of me that’s disgusted with myself for not being crumbled up in a pile like I was last year.  Learning to live with Drey’s death is very hard.  It’s taking a long time to integrate this loss into my life, my circumstances, my being.

God tells us to be joyful in all circumstances.  To be continuously thankful.

What am I afraid of?  Why can’t I let myself be a little joyful and grateful without wanting to just die of shame for feeling that way?  Because I’ll forget Drey?  Because people will assume I’m “over it” and won’t pray and care for me the way they have been.  Because people will think I’m a freak because one day I’ll be joyful and the next I’ll be crying – so it’s best to keep the mood swings to myself.  Because people will think I must not have loved Drey – at least not as much as they love their children because they can’t fathom ever smiling again after their child died.   Somehow in my little world I’ve assumed everyone is watching me and drawing conclusions about how I’m handling things.  Because apparently I’m the most interesting person in the world?? 

God please help me to live before You and only You.  My audience of One.  Help me to live just today without concern for how I’ll be feeling or what mood I’ll be in tomorrow.  Teach me to direct my thoughts towards others.  My needs are met in You.  You have shown me that in miraculous ways this past year especially.  The fact that I’m still alive is a miracle!  I want to overflow with the love You’ve given me.  Overflow into the lives of others without regard for myself because You promise to continually love me, delight in me.

Teach me.

Getting closer to fine…

Oct7

I dropped off David this morning. The small rock is still painted… RIP FDM. It’s been 2 months since your friends painted it. It’s lasted a long time.

I always drop David off in the mornings but this morning was harder than usual. It’s because we hit traffic and were a little late. You and I were always cutting it close to get there in time baby. Remember? Funny what a difference 9 minutes can make with my mood. I don’t want to drop David off at 7:34 or later. I’ve got to avoid that at all costs. Who knew? A drop off at 7:25 and I’m “ok” – as “ok” as I can be as I drive past the rock, the soccer field, the stop sign on the hill where I taught you to drive a standard, your parking spot. But 7:34… The shallow breathing and trembling came back all at once. No thank you.

I don’t always feel like this, Drey. Somehow I’m learning to live with the hard days with a different attitude. They make me more grateful for the lighter days.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t ache.

Today I am one day closer to seeing you again. Today I am one day closer to spending eternity with my perfect Father and lover of my soul. Is it amazing, Drey? Are you smiling? Dancing? Racing?

Dear Lord help me to take my thoughts captive to your obedience. Help me love people with Your love. Teach me every lesson possible through this suffering. My life will count. Drey’s life will count. Did count.

Who am I. God I miss him.

Oct1

My mind is swirling this morning.  It swirls in so many different directions.  I don’t understand how I got to where I am.  It’s still surreal.  When to sit in it, to contemplate it vs when to change my questions, my mindset.  Always a balancing act.  

I look at your picture taken on graduation day.  The picture of you and me.  I’m in my heels but you’re still taller than me.  You always thought you were so short.  But not to me.   How did I get here?  Why am I left with only memories of you?

This week is intense… Survivors of Suicide Group, GriefShare, speaking at the Helpline annual meeting, a meeting with Rep Anielski about the laws around Rx meds given to minors, then the Memorial Bench dedication at the zoo.  All in 4 days time.   All important things I want to do.   I was in control of the timing for the Wednesday commitments.  When I looked at Wednesday it was open so I scheduled them.  New Lesson:  Part of my “new normal” is learning to look at the entire week’s events before making plans.  Learning to consider the emotional strain of the week is important before saying “yes” to something else.

I used to do so many things all at once.  Achiever.  Accomplisher.  I got so much done in a week.  I’d run from meeting to meeting, prepare for a home church teaching, hang with friends and attend both soccer games of the week.  I wonder what the cost was?  The cost in my marriage.  The cost in my relationships.  Robbie’s told me – and I even remember – making Drey a priority in spite of other things I was responsible for.   I didn’t do this perfectly but Drey knew I loved him.  And he knew I loved the Lord.  I won’t allow the voices in my head to tell me I failed him.  Not this morning anyway.  I delighted in my boy more than anything else in my life (not that my marriage and my relationship with God shouldn’t have been first…)

Losing Drey has meant digging deep into my identity.  Deeper and deeper.  At first it was “am I still a mom?” And how do I answer the, “do you have kids” question?   Then I realized I hadn’t – and couldn’t – look at myself in the mirror.  I would look at my hair, at each eye to put makeup on.  But never at my full image.  I knew I was losing weight, I knew the dark circles under my eyes were there.  But I couldn’t bear to look.   It took about 4 months before I actually looked in the mirror at myself in total.  And all I saw staring back was Drey’s Mom.  I saw the pain of a broken woman who loved her son so dearly that she would’ve given her life for his.   It took a few more months before I could begin looking in the mirror without becoming nauseous. 

But even now – especially now –  this identity thing keeps going deeper…  “I am a daughter of the King.”  Blah blah blah.  To know this intellectually is one thing but to really get to the root belief and meaning of who I am is risky work.

I’ve KNOWN intellectually for a long time that cookies, bra’s and panties (I worked as an Executive at Cheryl’s and at Victoria’s Secret), my ability to do 20 things in a day:  attend soccer games, teach the bible, keep my house clean, go on college visits, lead DivorceCare, call a friend, buy that book for a coworker, etc. did not define who I was.  But now that those things don’t fill up my time…   I sometimes find myself feeling worthless.  So the deeper journey into CONSIDERING who I am began on August 8th, 2012.    I didn’t know it at the time.  I didn’t know much of anything on that day or for several weeks afterwards – everything was foggy.  But nonetheless God was and still is at work.  He is the ultimate multi-tasker.  Not only was He comforting me and carrying me in my grief but he was teaching me about who I was.

Fourteen months later I don’t have a new, magical answer to the “Who am I” question.   I am a daughter of the King.  I have been since 1987 when I realized I wasn’t perfect and needed a Savior – and that Savior was Jesus.  What’s different now is that the journey to CONSIDERING myself a daughter – chewing on, meditating on, ruminating on –  that I am a daughter of the King became real on August 8th, 2012.  My supposed ability to attend soccer games, clean my house, and teach the bible, were stripped from me.  I could not breathe without God.  My journey into CONSIDERING my true identity began when I realized apart from my King I was but dust.

 

 

Suicide, guilt and God

Sep23

Did I contribute to my baby’s suicide?  On the one hand I think of course I did.  I was Mom.  I was responsible for him.  God was counting on me to raise an emotionally healthy boy.  Somewhere along the way I failed.  How can a parent – any parent – not feel responsible?   I worked too much.  I didn’t make Drey stay involved in church when he hit high school.  I didn’t act with urgency when I knew he was drinking.   He grew up in two homes instead of one because of my selfishness.  I didn’t pray enough.  I didn’t create a home where he wanted to bring his friends over in the high school years.   I didn’t drive to his Dad’s house that morning.  I did too much for him.  If he would’ve had to work harder for the things in his life he would’ve had more of a sense of accomplishment. 

What do I do with this knowledge?  How do I sort through true guilt from the false guilt?  

David had a bad day last Friday.  He came home and I listened as Robbie told me about their conversation.  I listened as my husband parented his son and I struggled to recall a time I was there for Drey at the end of a bad day.   How many times did I fail?  The weight of it is too much to carry.  This guilt has become a frequent companion.   I know these thoughts are not from God.  But taking my thoughts captive is very challenging sometimes.  As I’m driven repeatedly to my knees I’m learning to love my God more than ever.  A depth of love I never could have experienced apart from this depth of suffering.  He lifts the weight of this load in indescribable ways.  Ways I experience yet cannot comprehend or articulate.   I go to Him in the depths of despair and sometimes within minutes I am praising Him for hundreds of reasons all at once. 

What do I do with this knowledge?  How do I sort through true guilt from the false guilt?  I take it to God.  The One who never tires of my tears, my pain, my need for reassurance.  The One who can point me perfectly in the right direction.  The One who delights in my dependence on Him.  The One my son can now see.  God please tell Drey I love him.  I love him so.

Drey’s friends and Drey’s legacy

Sep18

I suppose when someone dies by suicide the tendency for people who didn’t know them that well is to remember them by their death rather than their life. “Oh yeah – I remember that kid. He’s the one that killed himself.” This isn’t something I gave much thought to until recently. It’s yet another “secondary loss.” The loss of Drey’s legacy. Frankly I’m pretty flippin done with discovering, processing and grieving all these secondary losses. But they keep coming.

Probably without even realizing it Drey’s friends have been and continue to be a big support to me in this area. The 2013 year book includes Bethaney sharing what Drey meant to her and how he impacted her. Just yesterday Britney shared on FB some words Drey had encouraged her with. I’ve heard stories about Drey and how special he was when I spent time with his friends this summer, too. One friend shared that in part it was because of their friendship and the loss of that friendship that prompted her to begin a relationship with God.

I am grateful beyond words to hear about my son’s impact on others. Not just because a Mom wants – even needs – to hear these things because she misses her baby. But because I know others are carrying on Drey’s legacy – his real legacy – by sharing about the impact he had on them.

So maybe it’s not fair to say his legacy is a secondary loss.

Thank you friends for making that possible.