A 12 Month Journey of Suicide Survival, Grief, Motherhood, Warfare, and Grace

Today, November 4, 2014, marks an anniversary I’ve been dreading.  The day before we had rushed around, scrambling as a family of five to get to church and then a soccer game for our five year old.  As we scrambled to load strollers, diaper bags, a toddler, newborn, our five year old, and get out of the door ‘on time’, my phone rang.  It wasn’t a convenient time for a casual phone conversation.  It was my big brother, Seth.  He asked if we’d been to church that day, trying to sound chipper.

“Yes,” came my defensive rebuttal.  “Did YOU go to church today?”

“No” was his usual reply.

“Well, I have to go, we’re trying to get Ben to his soccer game.  I’ll call you later.”

That night I felt convicted that I had rushed too much and was too short with Seth on the phone.  I knew he was struggling right now because he was unemployed, searching for a job, beginning to feel overwhelmed about bills and money, and things sometimes looked hopeless.  And of course, on top of it all, he battled with mental illness.  I sent him a text apologizing and told him I would call him tomorrow.  His response was “OK”.   Before bed, I decided to put together a care package for him that would hopefully cheer him up, make him feel loved and cared for.  I gathered some food items to make tacos, Seth loved tacos.  We were always sharing recipe techniques with each other during our evening phone calls.  He usually had  a new tip that would make it better.  I also threw in some Halloween candy, a picture Ben colored for him, and a book I had been discussing with him.  This book had a major impact on my my spiritual life and general outlook, and I was hoping it would help him as well.  It was about spiritual warfare.

The next morning, I dropped Ben off at school, stopped by the post office with Nolan and Addie, and mailed Seth’s package.  I texted him right after to let him know he should expect a package from me by Wednesday.  “OK” was his only response.

That afternoon, after finally getting my two year old down for a nap, and then nursing Addie to sleep, I sat on the couch debating whether I should try to lay her down, or just hold her while she slept.  I was exhausted and could use a break, but I didn’t want to risk waking her.  Then, my phone rang.  Crap, don’t wake the baby!  I looked down at my phone and it was Seth, so I decided to answer.  He sounded really low.  I asked if he had gone out that morning to drop off an application where his friend, Tim, worked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, did you talk to Tim while you were there?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He wasn’t there.”

“Oh.  Well, try to remember to follow up with him.  Give him a call or text him so he knows you were there.”

“OK.”

I was worried that if I wasn’t persistent, he might not follow through.  A few minutes of silence passed and I was getting impatient.  Why did he call if he had nothing to say?  “So, what else did you do today?”  I was hoping to get some conversation going.

“Nothing.”

More silence.  “Is Eddie coming down to hunt this weekend?”

I was getting tired of being the middle man.  “I don’t know.  He wasn’t going to, but now he says he wants to.  You should call him tonight and talk to him about it.”

“OK.”  A few more minutes of silence.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you go.”  I was ready to get off the phone, I was busy and getting agitated.

“OK.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I had no idea, that would be the very last earthly conversation I would have with my big brother.  I had no idea that was the last time I would hear his voice in this life.  I had no idea I was the last person he would call.

That night after the kids were in bed, I tried to call Seth.  No answer.  I tried to push aside the familiar fearful thoughts that something could be wrong.  I’ll talk to him tomorrow, he’s probably already in bed.

The next morning, Tuesday, November 5, I was busy with the same old stuff.  Nolan was in his high chair eating breakfast, Ben was at school, and I was changing Addie.  Eddie called me around 9 – 9:30 AM.  “Are you at home right now?”

“Yeah, why?”

He paused.  “Have you talked to your Mom this morning?”

Why would…wait, “No, why?  Is something WRONG?!  Did something bad happen?!”  My mind started racing as fast as my heart, I started to think something happened to Ben at school, but that didn’t make sense…Seth.  “DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO SETH?  IS HE OK?”

Eddie started sobbing.  “I’m on my way home.”

I knew.  He wanted to tell me in person, but I begged him to tell me Seth wasn’t dead. When he said yes, I could not believe it.  This is a nightmare and I have to wake up, right now.  I dropped the phone.  I fell on my knees and screamed.  I cried out to God, “NO!  Why did you let this happen?!  You were supposed to protect him!”  I tore my shirt off and started punching the door, and then I fell back on the floor.  I suddenly realized my babies were crying and I had to try and pull it together.

My mom was worried after Seth hadn’t answered his phone so she drove over to his house to check on him, and that is when she found him.  My big brother, had lost his battle with a horrible, painful, disease.  In the same way our father had lost the battle 25 years earlier.

The hours, days, weeks, and months to follow were like climbing the longest, darkest, and sometimes loneliest mountain I’ve ever climbed.  Many days, I would become paralyzed by grief and guilt.  After experiencing the most traumatic loss of my existence, I naively thought, “Surely this is it.  I can’t handle anymore, so God won’t allow me to endure anymore suffering.  I’ll crumble otherwise.  And surely, the enemy is convinced I’m down for the count, and he’ll leave me alone.”  However, the storms raged on.  Addie battled one illness after another, with three ER trips, one hospitalization, and one surgery, plus countless doctor’s visits.  My life got messier and messier.  I was only reacting to life as each wave hit, struggling to lift my head long enough to gasp for air, then back under.  Everything I did was the bare minimum, just enough to survive and keep my three kids alive.  Ben struggled in kindergarten, and I assumed blame for that as well.  Everything was dark and gray in my world.

At times I wondered, would I ever be able to feel more joy than sorrow in my life?  Would I ever be able to get through a single day with more smiles than tears?  Would the immense, overwhelming ache in my heart always consume me?  Would I ever be able to enjoy all of the beautiful life that still surrounded me?