3 Month mark

It has now been 3 months since my father died. It doesn't seem like a big number, but the reality is that it seems like a lifetime ago. Our family was struck with a 2nd tragedy with the death of my husband's aunt a couple of weeks ago. Talk about a rough summer. She passed away after a year long battle with pancreatic cancer. She left behind a family who loves her, people who's lives she invested heavily in, and some very young grand children. Her funeral was awesome, she loved Jesus and spent her life giving Him glory, and her memorial was no different.
I know God didn't allow both of these deaths by chance, both so different yet the grief has so many similarities.... and both deaths have something to teach my kids. It doesn't make either one of these losses hurt less. I couldn't help by wonder why God has now allowed my husband, to grieve a loss at the same time that I am hurting.

I have noticed that every month, right around the 23rd, I become very emotional. Most times I haven't even mentally known the date, but my heart must know, and with each passing month my loss becomes more and more real. We had family visiting us at the 3 month mark, and boy did it make a difference! It was great for me to be surrounded by people when this hard day came and went. I had other things to laugh and smile about, and was again reminded that God has placed people in our lives who do love us.

A cousin, mourning his dear mama, made the statement "Everything around reminds me of her. I think of her every second of everyday." It's strange how the loss of someone you love brings so many parts of your life that they touched, to the surface. Like abrasive sandpaper, the memories come out and start sanding down, leaving only the dust of dried tears behind. It's also amazing to me how much my mind has attempted to lesson the blow. Just the other day the movie Cannonball Run was on Tv, everyone was enjoying it, I remembered how much my dad liked it (and movies with similar humor), and for a split second, the thought came that I needed to call and talk to him about it. It would be a pleasant conversation! Reality quickly smacked my in the forehead: there would be no phone call, no discussion on the humor of this show, my dad is gone.

My grief is lessened a bit when I can hold on to this truth: If we allow, God can "cut and dress" us, allowing nothing to be wasted that happens in our lives, but using everything for the glory of the God who loves us beyond our comprehension. Do I trust Him?

1Peter 1:6-7 "In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor, at the revelation of Jesus Christ."

National Suicide Prevention Day- Sept. 10th

Yesterday was National Suicide Prevention Day. It's a day created to help save lives. The more we dialog about this, the more we expose the "elephant in the room", the less frightening it becomes. As we become less frightened,(no- studies show that talking about it does not increase the risk, or put thoughts of doing it into peoples minds!)the more people who feel like suiciding will be able to seek help before their families and loved ones are left behind to pick up the pieces. The above picture was self taken by my dad on his camera. We found it the other day. Another reminded that he is gone, and that this charming, cheesy grin is something I'll only see in photos.

This day got me thinking: suicide isn't new, it has been happening since the fall of Adam and Eve. Their are 7 people recorded in the Bible as having taken their own lives.

Abimelech- Judges 9:50-54 was a ruler over Israel for 3 yrs. He ordered his armor-bearer to kill him by sword, after he was hit on the head with a milestone by a woman.

Samson- Judges 16:23-31- Samson was given super-human strength by God, but ended up being deceived by a woman who found out his "secret" to his power, and then handed him over to the enemy, the Philistines. They gouged out his eyes and kept him as a prisoner. One day, they brought Samson out for entertainment during a party, and he pushed over the pillars killing many, including himself.

Ahithophel-2 Samuel 17:23- was David's council who turned against him and joined with Absalom to try to kill David. When Absalom decided not to follow Ahithophel's plan, he "put his house in order and hanged himself."

Zimri-1 Kings 16:15-20- was a ruler only 7 days. He set fire to his home (the palace) and himself once he realized he was to be overpowered.

King Saul-1 Sam.31:2-5- was in battle with the Philistines when he realized that he wasn't going to win this war. He asked his armor-bearer to kill him before the Philistines could capture him, but his side-kick couldn't do it, so Saul fell onto his own sword.

King Saul's Armor-bearer- after he saw his King suicide in front of him, he followed suit and fell onto his own sword, killing himself right next to his master.

Judas Iscariot-Matt.27:3-5- After selling Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, Judas could not live with himself and was filled with remorse. Her returned the money paid to him, then hanged himself.

7 deaths in the Bible caused by one's own hand. I have to wonder why God allowed these parts of the story into His book. Could it be that we have lessons to learn from these men's lives... and deaths?

These stories tell us that several of these men felt backed into a wall. They were afraid of being over-powered by the enemy. Afraid of what would happen once their lives were in the hands of those they most hated. Samson killed himself perhaps because he wanted to also kill his captors, the people who had taken his life and his sight... or perhaps he didn't think he could take anymore prison, anymore torture. Judas sinned, big time... I mean, big time. He sold the Savior! He was partly to blame for the brutal death of his mentor and friend! Saul's armor-bearer had witnessed his master, his King, and no doubt his friend, kill himself right before his eyes. Seeing Saul's last breath and lifeless body, he knew he could not go on either. I wonder if Saul's fear had gripped this boy as well. All too often, fear can be contagious, so much so, that one sees no other option but death.

I have found myself in the place of all of these people at one time or another in my lifetime. I've been paralyzed with fear, I've been afraid of being overtaken by the evil one. I've been placed into the hands of my enemy, and I have sinned... big time. Now I also have seen my father take his own life and leave behind only shattered pieces. I have been broken. I have been hopeless. I have been lost. I have felt like I could not go on. Moses, Elijah, Job, and Jonah all had the desire to take their own lives at one point. As a human, I'm not immune, and as a Christ-follower, lover of God, I'm not immune.

When life seems like too much to bear. When the pain is so great, I cling to one thing, I have hope. I can rest assure that no matter what lays in my path, God has a reason. He has my best interest in mind, even if I can not see it in my circumstances. I know without a shadow of a doubt that God is faithful in all circumstances. I know that He shows himself and His power in my weakness, and I know that He is love.

My point is this: through speaking the truth of suicide, by no longer making it the "unmentionable" death, we let others know that they are not alone. They are loved, and regardless of their pain, they have someone, somewhere, who loves them. The more we speak about the pain left behind by a suicide death, the more we let others know that their life is indeed worth it. Now that's something to talk about!

This is the kind of life you've been invited into, the kind of life Christ lived. He suffered everything that came his way so that you would know that it could be done, and also know how to do it, step-by-step.He never did one thing wrong, not once said anything amiss. They called him every name in the book and he never said anything back. He suffered in silence content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins so that we could be rid of sins, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea of who you were or where you were going. Now you are named and kept for good, by the Shepard of your souls. 1 Peter 2:18-25

Grief goes in stages, and as it ebbs and flows like an ocean wave, there are many emotions that surface. Anger is one of those. Grief over a suicide is unique as the family left behind grieves a murder, but the murderer is the very person that you loved and lost.

It is interesting to be in a place of such deep sorrow, along with strong anger. Often suicide is thought of as being selfish, and indeed it is. However, we as a society also need to see that suicide is done because the person feels like they are back against a wall with no way out. I am often very upset that my dad left, that he didn't want to see his grandchildren grow up. By leaving, he left the impression that it wasn't worth it to hang around. I get angry that he didn't want to be a part of my life, or at least not enough to want to stay on Earth.

Lately, I've also had something that takes me by surprise, compassion toward him. People who choose to end their lives so violently can not be in a good place. Depression strikes and in the case of a suicide, something happens called "tunnel vision"- the suicidal person literally can not see anything else but their own sorrow, their own overwhelming problems and pain. My dad lived in a different state, so our contact was limited to phone conversations and e-mail, yet looking back, I can now see how he was totally disabled by his tunnel vision. Truthfully, it became exhausting trying to encourage him to see life from a different perspective, to focus on the many things he did have instead of what he could no longer do. My attempts only made him angry and he pushed himself further away from me.

If only I had seen the depths of his sorrow, if only I had taken more drastic measures, if only he had made that mental health appointment for 1 week earlier, he may still be alive. The truth of this seems a fine line to me. He was selfish and not thinking about what he would put his family through if he left. However, I think because of tunnel vision, he was convinced that no one would care, that no one loved him, and that he would not be missed. He simply could not see living with his emotional and physical pain one more day. He simply could not see anyone but himself.

None of us are islands, although I am convinced that at the end of my father's life, he sincerely believed he was. He was however a part of a community. His life touched others, and his death will affect many. I recently read a quote by Henri Nouwen that spoke volumes, "We are not alone; beyond the differences that separate us, we share one common humanity and thus belong to each other."

What my dad suffered from was treatable. His life had been rocked by disabling MS, but his soul and spirit were wounded from deep depression. If nothing else good comes from his death, I will be forever cautious of living my life looking outside myself, caring about others beyond myself, and making sure that I remember that I am not an island whose life doesn't matter to others. Every life God has created here has a purpose, and thus every single loss is felt.

Experience is not what happens to you, it is what you do with what happens to you. Don't waste your pain. Use it to help others- Author Rick Warren

Kids and grief

It's back to school time here in our house and that means lots of new experiences for our kids.

As we prepare and buy new school supplies, try to plan first day new outfits, learn our new teacher's names, it is a happy (and chaotic) time, but there is still an air of sadness that seems like it will never leave.

Also new are the comments which are becoming a part of our everyday lives. I'm not quite sure how to deal with these unusual circumstances, and, truth be told, I get downright angry at my father for leaving us (me) in this place, where I have to struggle with this.
For instance, the other day as we went through the checkout with our loads of notebooks, crayons, markers, scissors, rulers and binders, the cashier began a friendly conversation with the kids about school. You know, the standard "Are you excited for school?" and "What school will you be going to?". Well, as the kids sat chatting away to this very nice and talkative stranger, my bright 4 yr. old climbed up on the bag area to say "My grandpa died. He shot himself. We are kind of sad," as I quickly attempted to cover her mouth with my hand and give a weak smile of apology.
You see, kids don't feel the same shame as adults do when talking about suicide. If you are uncomfortable speaking about it, the root of that is usually shame. What will people think about me if they knew? What does it say about the kind of daughter that I was? I don't want anyone's pity, but why do I have to deal with this? Why did he chose to go this way?


For kids, it is vitally important that you speak of the death, and how it happened- the experts all say that the worst thing you can do is hide it from them, as one day they will find out and they will have to grieve all over again, their trust in you will be called to question. Kids process death differently, and with suicide, they don't understand the stigma surrounding it. Kids need to talk, talk and talk about their loved one, and their death. Grandpa Dale is a regular part of our conversations here, and many days I have to stop myself from stopping them- it is all a part of their healing process.

One day last week it got really cool during the night. Our windows were all open so we woke up with a chill in our bones. During breakfast, my 6 yr. said, "Mom, at least grandpa wasn't cold, since he is inside that warm little box. It must be super warm for him in there!" (Grandpa was cremated and for now sits in my room.) I chuckled at the logic of a 6 yr old, but I also realized something else in that moment.... my kids are always thinking of their grandpa and their loss. This is something we will all have to live with, learn how to navigate through. Any moment could bring on sadness and tears, or memories that leave us smiling, but Grandpa Dale left a void in our lives that will never be filled.

The only thing I have to battle the sadness, to deal with the unanswered questions and the burning anger that my kids even have to deal with this in their young lives is God. Without Him, I would be too weak to smile in these moments or cry without being completly overtaken in grief. He promises to heal the wounds left by my dad.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. PS. 147:3

Fear not

"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken, it will become unbreakable,impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." -CS Lewis

God has been really working on my heart the last week. And when I mean working, I want you to understand that I am not picturing a man sitting at a desk, punching buttons on a computer and having the occasional phone call with a co-worker. I'm talking the really hard labor kind of work. The type of work that calls out the bulldozer, the backhoe, the dump truck, the crane and the ditch-digger.

All of the above mentioned machines are good for demolition and rebuilding. So many things in my heart were brought to the surface by my dad's suicide. The guilt, the anger, the sadness, but most of all the abandonment. My heart was shattered by this event... and worse than that, my dad wanted my heart to be shattered.

The way I saw it, I only had two choices. I could allow my emotions to overwhelm and consume me (some days they most certainly do) or, I can let God have all my pain, my hurt, my disappointment and my guilt. It's not easy to hand this stuff over, it is more like a complete demolition.

I tell Him I don't want any of it anymore, He serves as the contractor boss-man, and calls in the bulldozer to knock down the walls built up in my heart. He calls on the backhoe to make sure the soil has been dug deep and the roots of any hurts are pulled completely up. After carefully inspecting (the way any good boss-man would) to make sure that the demolition is complete, he orders all of the torn down, worn out, angry, old pieces of twisted metal, heavy brick, and old cement, into the back of a dump truck. This truck is headed on a one way trip. It will leave all of the broken pieces of my life, at the dump where they belong.

Next, the Boss-man calls in the re-building team. The steamroller is called in to level and flatten the ground, He needs to make certain it is done properly so that the foundation can be firm. Next, the cement truck, to lay the foundation. After that ,the crane, to set into place all the walls- properly. They must be straight and solid. The old walls were brick, built to protect and hide the hurt inside, but these new walls are made of shiny, clear, unblemished glass- there is no hiding anything behind these new walls. the roof, the paint and the final touches- voila! A brand-new solid building standing on the same old ground.

Just like a building cannot be built in one day, this work God is doing in my heart will be a long process. It has begun, and as long as I step back and allow the Boss-man to call the shots, I will make it through this a new and different person.. much better than before.

This week, I have had to battle fear. Will I become like my dad was? Is it in my genes? Will I battle the same demons that my dad battled, and in the end believed? Will I be sad forever? Can I deal with this much pain without going completely crazy? Can I ever just have a "normal" life? Will "it" hit me when I get older? Will I become hard and calloused? Will I hate my children too?

God tells us to "fear not" over and over again in the Bible. Even if I take this at only face value it is clear that God doesn't call us to fear- anything- at all.

"For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you." Is. 41:13

You came near me when I called you, and you said "Do not fear." Lam. 3:57

For me, it is clear, I must allow God to demolish first the fear and to listen to His truths about my fears. "Fear not, you are mine, and while you can't change the circumstances, you can allow me to change YOU."

Hope Again

It's a sunny day here, and I am sitting outside watching my kids play on the trampoline,with water. The normal pounce is amplified when wet, and it has the added bonus of becoming like a slip and slide. Their squeals delight me, their laughter brings a smile to my face, their joy heals my heart.

" A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up bones" Proverbs 17:22

The weeks have gone by somewhat quickly, and although it seems like just yesterday since I got word of my father's death, it also seems like a lifetime ago. I have been on an emotional roller coaster- not knowing what is around the next turn, how it will turn my stomach, make me cry, or terrify, or anger me.

God has really worked in me this last week. I came to the place where my grief threatened to eat me up alive. I was angry, broken, full of sorrow. It was here in this place, that I decided that I could allow my father and his actions to rule my life: to bring heartbreak to my family, disrupt my children's lives, bring fear to my heart.... or I could hand it ALL over to the Lord to heal, and not allow it to rule over me. It was his decision after all. I'm still living!

This is much easier said than done. One runs the risk of "stuffing it", casting out all the memories, emotions associated with the lost person. It is a fine and sometimes blurry line that I walk between allowing God to have it, and pretending it isn't happening to me.

But, I can tell you, God is the Great Physician. He does heal. Handing it over to Him has been a daily thing on my part, sometimes hourly, sometimes every minute, but He is all about healing!

I've found reasons to be glad! My step-dad and his family came to stay with us. How healing for my heart to get a hug from the man I called my dad my whole life. To know that God hasn't abandoned me and neither has this man, who really has no "blood" tie at all.

I've found myself feeling glad that I get the blessing of having children. That God has entrusted me to raise them, and as such, I get to see life through their sweet eyes.

I've looked at the flowers, newly planted in my yard, and seen the beauty of their color, in hues of pinks, oranges, and yellows.Enjoyed the excitement of the butterflies that dance around them on a clear day.

All of these feelings seemed lost just a month ago. Swallowed up by the word "suicide". But hope has come, and I am beginning to return to normal. God has given me joy and happiness in aspects of my life apart from my grief. Life can, will and does go on... and it is not empty.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is the tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

No one else understands?

We had a nice weekend. We traveled to a cousin's wedding 4 hrs away, which was lovely. It was great to see family, but for me these happy moments are tainted. I can somewhat enjoy things, but not with free abandonment.
I have learned that I can go on living... I just need to put on a mask. I smile, joke, laugh, have conversations. My mask says "I'm fine, nothing can bring me down!" but my heart speaks a different story. At the wedding there was a traditional father/daughter dance. I left the room during this as I thought of my dad, and how he should have danced with me and cherished me as a daughter. My thoughts turned then to how incredibly blessed my daughters are with their daddy. Not a day goes by that he doesn't speak words of love to them. He makes sure they understand that they are valuable and cherished in his eyes.... what a gift God has given them! I stand totally thankful- the chain of my father, and his father before him, is broken with this man.



While I was escaping the father/daughter dance, I started thinking "Is this my life now? Will I have to wear this mask everywhere I go so people don't ask questions, so they don't see the pain? Will I spend the rest of my life running away at the things that bring sorrow to my heart? Will everything in sight remind me of myhuge, huge loss? Will I ever be normal?"

Of course, this wasn't the first time I have had to deal with questions like these. But the isolation that comes from having no one else understand can be devastating. I'm trapped, in my own mind, with my own memories, my own sorrows. I want to allow others to help me carry them, but they can't understand. I've found that since people don't know what to say they will simply avoid the topic, and not even acknowledge the huge tragedy that has just occurred in our family.
I have also had numerous sweet, wonderful friends and kind people reach out with words of empathy, encouragement, and kindness... but I still feel alone.

I've learned that feeling alone is something very normal to survivors of suicide. I feel alone most days, but I know I'm not alone. I was reading a new book the other day and the author brought up a point which left me breathless. His point was this: the God I serve is a God of emotion. Not only did he send his son to the cross, he did that so that he could identify with man. Theologian John Cavadini says that through Jesus "God actually experiences something new and knows first hand- as one of us mortals-suffering and anguish within a fallen world....In Christ, God truly enters into radical historical solidarity with human suffering."
God doesn't just know about my loss, he knows first hand. The Bible says we are created in the image of God, and the God of the Bible weeps, mourns, grieves and hurts. My emotions aren't just created in man, but instead a mirror image of my Creator!
I protect myself from fully feeling my loss, because my grief is simply overwhelming... but God can feel my grief in full force, He can handle it.

Ps 116:5 says "Our God is full of compassion", compassion means "to suffer with". God is not distant and aloof, He is present and sharing my grief. What an amazing thought that carries with it a comfort indescribable.

These thoughts gave all new meaning to my feeling of isolation. No doubt God is not only with me, but He loved my dad even more than I did, He not only knows my pain, but he feels it with me. Someone else DOES indeed understand.