Lily's Feelings

Bedtime is hard for Lily. She has extreme separation anxiety - complete with clinging, begging for "one more hug" and bringing up topics that are way too big to tackle when it is time for bed (and when Mom is exhausted).

 

The difficulty is that she doesn't want me to go. And she knows that if she brings up her grief for the loss of her father I'm not just going to walk away.

 

She asks the hard questions about things that a Mom doesn't really want to send her 9.75 year old daughter off to bed thinking about.

 

Her level of questions amaze me because these are the same mixed up questions that everyone has when they lose someone to suicide - and I already know they are unanswerable. 

 

Below is a collection of some of the things I have heard from her, at bedtime, over the course of the past 6 months.

 

• She misses her Daddy, of course. She wants to know WHERE he is...she points around the room like a blind person and says, "Is he there? Is he over there?" and then says, "Daddy? Where are you?"
• She struggles with the “not getting to say goodbye” – she talks about when someone gets cancer and dies you usually get to say goodbye. This seems to be a very hard thing for her – she talks about how she just waved and said, “See you Monday.” and that if she had just known she would have said a better goodbye.
• She wonders why some people have this same disease and DON’T kill themselves
• She gets upset when she tells people her dad had a brain disease and he died from it and they, in trying to be empathetic (which she does understand is their intent) talk about people in their family who are also depressed and are getting help. She wonders why her Dad was one who killed himself and finds it maddening because it makes her feel like they don't understand it isn't the same to know someone with depression as it is to lose your Dad.
• It is hard to hear other girls talk about their Daddy’s
• She still wants more information about the disease – did he have “the disease” before he started drinking? I told her I didn’t think so. I told her I thought that there was a family history of alcoholism and that when he started drinking at 14 that he enjoyed it and thought he could control it but that it damaged his brain so he couldn’t think properly. She wanted to know if anyone had tried to help him when he was a teenager.
• She talked about his selfishness to do this to his family.
• One of her questions prompted me to concede that it wasn’t the first time he had gotten so angry that he had threatened to kill himself. She wanted to know how I stopped him those other times? I told her I couldn’t stop him – he stopped himself. She wanted to know why he wasn’t able to stop himself the last time.

Also during our bedtime conversations I have learned that she has been given far too much information about her father's final 24 hours by her step-mother. These details I wish I could take back from her...

• Shawn's final words to Heather before he drove to the mountains to kill himself were, "I'm outta here". Why would you tell a little girl this? It is not helpful to her. Her take on it is one of anger..."If you knew they were going to be the last words you said to someone you loved wouldn't you say something nicer?"
• He left a note or notes and "she can read them when she is older - like when she is 15". Originally Amber told me she thought he had left notes for me and the kids. Later she said it was only one long horrible, hateful note written to her. I can imagine what it might say - I have my very own version that he wrote to me many years ago. Why was it helpful to tell Lily about the existence of this note? It was not written to her. It has no answers. And NO - the last thing a 15 year old girl should do is read her father's suicide note!! I've talked with both my and Lily's therapists about this extensively. We all agreed that, even if Amber agrees to not show her the note, there is nothing to stop her from giving it to her later (possibly out of anger at me, Shawn or Lily. There is also the possibility that Lily could find this note if it isn't secured. The only thing I can do is try to prepare her for the moment she is faced with a decision of whether or not to read the note. I did tell her the other night that I "didn't think she should ever read the note" because it was written in anger and wouldn't answer any of the questions she had and that "I didn't think her Dad would EVER want her to see it".

 

I have talked to Amber about the fact that this information has caused Lily so much distress. With the coaching of both therapists I have gently told her that "less is more" when it comes to sharing details of her father's final 24 hours. I encouraged her to share happy memories of him and to keep it simple if she presses for details on the end. Lily's therapist also talked to her this weekend. I am waiting for a report on that.

 

I understand it is hard and one doesn't want to feel like they are lying but I also think for a child of 9 that saying, "It is too hard for me to talk about right now." is perfectly okay.

Time Passages

Dear Shawn,

It's been almost 18 months since you died.

Wouldn't it be something if people who committed suicide could see what things were really like after they were gone and then make a decision.  But I guess we have no "Ghosts of Christmas Future" in our lives to show us these things.

I've reached a point where I can accept, and possibly even understand, that you saw no other possible future other than death.  This hasn't stopped me from scripting what you might have been able to do differently.

Remember how the morning after our wedding you woke up and told me you wanted to pack all of our belongings into our VW Bus and live on the road?  It wasn't too late for you to have done that.  Sure, your parents would have been horrified.  Your kids would have missed you.  But you could have done it.

And can I tell you, Shawn, that it's these memories that I miss the most.

Because I have no one to share them with.

These were OUR memories.  No one else lived this life we had built together and there is no one left to remember them with me.

We did amazing things together, Shawn.

You were my youth. 

Do you remembering sitting at our tiny red kitchen table and deciding, together, to pack up everything we owned into a U-Haul and move 1,500 miles to a city where we had no jobs, no place to live and didn't know a single person?  And it took us only 3 weeks from when we decided to do it to when we were actually there with jobs and an apartment!  Do you remember how sick I was?  Do you remember that campsite in New Mexico?  Do you remember how the VW broke down at the first light after we got off the exit in Phoenix?  Can you believe we did all that and it was no big deal?

And what about all the other things we did?  Together.

Remember how I told you to wait on the big adventure and that we would make it happen?  And we did.  We put everything we owned in storage and took our old VW and three dogs as we traveled through every state west of the Mississippi looking for a place to start a family and a business.

Do you remember all that I do about those three months?  Who else is there that remembers these things with me? 

Do you remember Goosenecks State Reserve in Utah and how it was FAR better than the overcrowded Grand Canyon?  Do you remember how hard it was to leave Durango and all the people we met there?  Do you remember the world's nastiest bathroom (as mutually agreed upon for years) near Crested Butte?  What about Salida?  That heavenly place of streams, flowers and butterflies.  Do you remember when we found Fort Collins and almost didn't leave because it felt like home?  Do you remember being covered with sap and sand in Moab and having to drive to the edge of the Colorado River where we dunked ourselves and the dogs and then hopped in the van to escape that hellish place as quickly as possible?  Do you remember that military jet that zoomed out of nowhere in Nevada and made the ground rumble?  Remember how I came flying out of the tent into your arms, sure that the earth was about to open up beneath me?  And then there was Eugene, OR, where we thought we would find what we were looking for and, instead, found it just didn't "feel right".  And Minneapolis where you got so sick you had to be hospitalized.  And Greg and Michelle's wedding reception that we went straight to when you were released from the hospital.  And visiting your Grandpa in Oklahoma - which was surprisingly mountainous and beautiful.  And what about all the little things on that trip?  Little flashes in time that became part of who I was?

Can we just spend some time now talking about these memories?  Because I don't have anyone to share them with now.

And you let me down, Shawn.

You broke the deal.

We moved to Fort Collins. We started that business that had been your lifelong dream.  We had two beautiful children. 

And you got angry.  Or maybe you always were but it was easier to handle when we were young and free of the big responsibilities of life.

You scared me, Shawn.

You were gone, Shawn.

Your essence had escaped.

You no longer took joy from hiking.  Or animals.  Or bikes.  Or your children.  The happiness you showed was hollow - most especially for you.

And so now here I am raising our kids without you.  That wasn't part of the dream.

Lily has struggled.  Part of me feels like you never really knew her and so you didn't realize how much she would be hurt.  I know how much you loved her - that's not the issue.  But I think you were so checked out emotionally by the time she was born that you couldn't see what a sensitive child she is and you couldn't fathom the pain you would cause her.  I think part of her struggle is because she has only a few memories of fleeting connections with you.  Why do you think she cries and cries about the fact that you only took her to one "Daddy-Daughter Dance" and talks about that night as if it was magical.  My wish for her is that someday she will find a way to reconcile the good memories of you along with the ones of you being angry and checked out.

Lennon is doing okay.  I know he misses you.  He has a little shrine in his room with some of your ashes, your favorite hat (with those white sunglasses I hated perched on top), a special rock, a Livestrong bracelet like you always wore, and a feather.  He is missing out on all the things you would have taught him. 

I'm okay, too.  It is different for me because we had been divorced for 4 years before you died.  I did a lot of grieving for the loss of you before you were even gone.  The hard part was that I always believed you would find a way to rediscover yourself and that we would be friends again.  I thought I would be able to talk to you and share these memories and laugh and laugh.

Jennifer

PS - I made this movie for you. You know the song - it is one we used to listen to together in college.

Whose Story is This Anyway?

Every.single.day.

Every single day I think, "I'm going to write today.  I'm going to answer the question.  I'm going to share what I would say to Shawn if he was back for just two days."

It's not that I don't know what I would say.

I have been having the conversation with him in my head for over a month now.

I even shared with Lily what I would say to her Dad if he was back for just two days.

Two days is quite a long time, actually.

Do I have two days worth of things I would want to say?

And what about him? 

Do I imagine him reacting in the way I would want? 

Or do I imagine the way he might have really reacted if I had shared these things with him before he died?

I suppose it is my exercise - my story - I can make it up however I want.

And maybe that is what has made it hard?

If I imagine the reaction I would want is it too painful to never actually have it?

Two Days..To Be Continued

Lily's therapist recently did a role play where they used anime characters on the computer - one was Lily and she typed the dialogue for that character, the other was Shawn who had come back for two days - the therapist typed the dialogue for Shawn.

It was very powerful to watch the finished project - both the therapist and I cried for sweet Lily who responded to "Shawn" saying, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Lily.  I hope you can forgive me." with, "Of course I will forgive you, but I miss you and wish you could stay longer."

It got me thinking...what would I say to Shawn if he was back for just two days?

Friends

During my marriage to Shawn I saw my own personal friendships relegated to the couple time a year, "We should get together more often" conversations.

Because, really, how could you look your friends in the eye and either 1) put on a smiling face and lie about what your life is really like or 2) spill your guts and tell them how much your husband drinks and how scared you are for your life and his? 

It robs your soul to try to put on the happy face with anyone other than acquaintances your true deep friends would say, "What are you doing? You have to get OUT!" if you told them your reality.

So Shawn's friends were also my friends.  Ryan, Rob and Jason.

I liked them.  We all hung out in the bike shop that adjoined our home for many, many hours each week and listened to music.  We all resided in the bicycling world and talked bikes.  They shared my same dark sense of humor and dry wit.

Our house was the "hang-out place" for the guys and I was "one of the guys".

Sure they were Shawn's drinking buddies and I never joined them on their "real" bike rides but that was okay because I had the children to care for and the behind the scenes work of the business to keep me busy.

Yet their presence in my home met my social needs and kept me from isolation.

Not surprisingly, when Shawn and I divorced they allied themselves with him.

This was logical, expected, and not hurtful.  They weren't unkind to me - they just simply disappeared from my life.

For the sake of their friend they had to believe his stories that I had "broken up the marriage" and "left Shawn for someone else".

Perhaps the reason why none of this bothered me at the time was because I thought,

"They know the truth.  They've seen how Shawn treats me.  They know how much he drinks.  I told them how he goes inside and sneaks extra shots when they are hanging out getting drunk.  I told them he was suicidal.  They've seen how much I gave to this marriage and this business.  They KNOW me.  They are my friends.  They know who I really am."

When Shawn died I needed them.

I needed to grieve with them.

And they haven't been there for me.

I kept believing they would reach out to me and comfort me.

I feel embarrassed that I need this.  And yet it feels to me like they are the only ones who might understand...how he could be so sick and yet still be someone with whom you wanted to spend time.

And they're not there.

They avoided me at the funeral.

The one time I saw Jason he was at work and he just maintained polite, distant, conversation.

They've never asked how I am doing.  They've never asked how the kids are doing.

They watched our children growing from the time they were infants.  These are their good friend's kids who have been left without a father.  Kids who might appreciate someone who knew their father well.

I was asked, a few months ago, by Shawn's Dad to be part of the group he was gathering to come up with ideas for a memorial for Shawn in Fort Collins - something artistic and bike related that would make sure that Shawn wasn't forgotten.

The others in this group:  Rob, Ryan, Jason and a few others from that time in my life.

There have been a number of "Reply to All" emails sent as ideas have been thrown around.

I participated in the ideas and talk of logistics for getting the memorial placed.

And every time I see these names on the email list it feels like a punch in the gut.

I guess it is a good thing because it made me realize how hurt I was feeling.

I sat on this situation and feeling for quite awhile.  I didn't tell R. or my Mom or anyone else that I was participating in a memorial plan for Shawn.  Probably because they might have questioned if it was healthy for me and my healing.

But I did finally bring it up with my therapist who pointed out, "It seems more like it is a memorial for them.  Is this something you need for your own healing?".

And the answer is, "no".  I don't need it for my healing. 

I participated in the planning in an effort to be included in the group again.  It was an invitation for one of them to email me privately to see how I was doing.  It was a way of trying to show, "I DID care about Shawn.  I do remember him."  It was my way of asking, "Do you really think it was my fault?".

Because they haven't reached out to me I am left guessing the reasons why.

Do they believe his suicide was caused by me ending our marriage?  Did they really believe all the things he told them about how I was making his life hell after the divorce?  Couldn't they see that his anger was not about me or anything I did or didn't do?

Have they blocked out the time I called them asking for help because Shawn had disappeared into the mountains threatening suicide?  Or do they feel guilty that they didn't take it seriously and are now struggling through their own grief and questioning of what they could have done done differently?  (PS - there was nothing you could have done, guys).

Do they not realize that I crave a chance to talk to them - to be real with them?

Were they ever really my friends?

These questions are, of course, unanswerable right now. 

I could reach out to them, I suppose.  I could ask them how they are doing with their own grieving.  I'm sure I have selfishly ignored how hard it must be to have a best friend commit suicide.

Rubik's Cube

I haven't been writing because everything feels too jumbled...or like there is too much to tell...or it is too inter-connected to sort through.

I just feel tired when I think about trying to form these jumbled thoughts into something coherent such that someone might be interested in reading.

2 Days

I've got a lot of things I want to write about...

I did get a response to the email I sent to Shawn's Mom.

I want to explore how it feels that friends Shawn and I had during our marriage but who became "his friends" after the divorce have never reached out to me after his death.

What Lily "told" her Dad during her therapy session when she role-played that he had come back for just two days.  Very powerful.

What would I say to him if he came back for two days?

Stay tuned.