I have lived a basic life: married thirty years to the same person, have two adult children, a meaningful and tolerable job, comfortable living, good friends, and close family. My family life has been relatively normal with no significant financial or relationship issues. Our children had stable relationships and moved out into the world. Our children were easy to raise, no life-shattering issues. We took a few memorable vacations, did the usual family things throughout the year: celebrated holidays, hosted backyard parties, enjoyed outdoor activities together, celebrated and attended their academic and sports events, and so on.
The Dividing Line
On March 10, 2018, the police knocked on our door at 11:15 PM. I knew my son had died. My son had taken his own life the day before, and his roommate found him the following evening. He had not been returning our calls, and he had missed a family dinner. He was twenty-three years old. My adult life centered around my children, and this shattered my world.
With the Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s (CDC’s) release of a significant increase in suicide rates and publicity surrounding several celebrity deaths, there is news coverage on how to prevent suicide, but my son has already died.
Why I Am Writing This Blog
There is potential for secondary mental health struggles by the family and survivors of someone who has taken his/her life; therefore, I want to share my personal struggle and journey post my son’s death, and perhaps I will make a connection with other suicide loss survivors. By sharing, I hope those who are not part of this loss surivivors club, will understand what the loss of my child means to me, and the extraordinary devastation his death by suicide has brought.
I am not a professional writer nor an academic or professional expert on behavioral health. I am writing from my own feelings and experiences.
