Content Warning: In this blog, I share a story about suicide, death, sexual assault and grief. If these are trigger subjects for you, please give this story a miss.
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A difficult subject
This is a subject that is very challenging but also one that I am very passionate about. I have been with more than one person during their final journey away from this life. It can be a confronting and, of course, an achingly sad time, but also an amazing gift to the person you are with. When someone passes away, there are always people left behind that need to navigate the personal fallout.
When I was 16, I made an amazing friend. She was artistic, bubbly, full of life and lit up any room she was in. Scratch that surface a bit, and underneath, she didn’t think she was enough. Many of the people in her life reinforced this with their words and actions.
My friend told me about how her father had died while “in bed” with her mother. She shared that her stepfather had sexually abused her. When she told her mother, she was met with, “Why would he be interested in someone like you”. There was no familial concern or support for this girl’s grief.
She distanced herself and went to study at a college where she lived in shared accommodation with lots of people. Over two years, we built a friendship, and during this time, she fell completely head over heels in love with a guy that hung around a lot. For so long, he totally ignored her, but one day, out of the blue, he commenced a relationship with her. I tried to dissuade her. I thought the pairing was a bad idea, but at 17, I had no real experience, and she was smitten. My warning fell on deaf ears. The relationship lasted for about two months until she began to challenge him, questioning if he loved her. It abruptly ended, leaving a broken-hearted girl who had been searching for love in all the wrong places.
and so she moved on
My friend got busy “moving on with life”. She got a job, rented her own place, went out with us and visited often. The recovery from heartbreak seemed too easy to me, too good to be true. Where was the girl who had just a couple of short months ago been heartbroken? But what could I do other than accept this front and hope she was truly trying to find love and acceptance within herself?
She wasn’t moving on, at least not in the way we hoped. She pulled off a meticulously planned suicide. Organising dates with people, visiting multiple doctors and convincing them that she was fine but just in need of a good night of sleep. This was carried out over weeks. There were letters written, none of which we ever saw. At the time, the police deemed that the letters would not be helpful if distributed. At 17, this made me so angry. I wanted to know what she had to say and why she was denied her last chance to say it.
I understand better now
As an adult with my own teenage children, I have a lot more understanding as to why they made the decision to withhold the letters. Most likely, to not compound trauma onto trauma and contribute to the grief. Although even now, I don’t naturally tend to shelter people, the world we live in is a hard place. To see the true beauty, we also need to be aware of the harsh contrasts.
The day I found out about the suicide, I had my driving test and, afterwards, a lunch date. My emotions were hugely overwhelming. A shock so deep in me that it was physical. I had trouble breathing and felt like someone had made some terrible error. I still took that driving test just two hours after getting the news that my friend was gone. On autopilot, I went through the motions. I passed the first time, strangely enough, because I didn’t care if I passed or not. There were no nerves.
Out on that drive, I noticed the world was still turning. People were navigating drive-throughs, shopping, walking their dogs and functioning in all the ways that make up our human life. I was gutted. Didn’t they know what had happened? How could they continue doing what they always do when we had lost such a beautiful soul from this world?
Life returned to normal
The worst of this was that life in college went on as normal. The announcement was made, and that was all. No counselling or offers of help of any kind, no acknowledgement of the grief. My boyfriend at the time seemed to have no inkling of what I was feeling. It felt like she was remembered as much as a piece of rubbish you have thrown into the bin and immediately forgotten.
At the funeral, I looked on with shock and disgust as her stepdad said lovely things about how much they would miss her. The whole affair felt so contrived. For many years I carried the grief and trauma of everything that had happened alone. Forgiveness for all the people who played a part in it was difficult for me. It was compounded by the fact that they didn’t have to answer for their actions. The most difficult, however, was forgiveness for myself. I should have known; it was so obvious in hindsight. Could I have talked her out of it? Should I have been there more? What other mistakes did I make?
We have the freedom of responsibility
Over time I have learnt that each of us is responsible for ourselves. We make our own choices and decisions, and the buck stops with us. Others may have an impact, but only in as much as we allow it. Others may try to influence us, but when the time comes, we need to make up our own minds. To take responsibility for our decisions. Even in the most impossible of situations, we choose our reactions to the things that happen to us. Taking responsibility in this way is very scary but also very liberating if we consider the freedom it gives.
Grief is something that everybody navigates differently. No two people are the same. Putting people in a box, thinking they will follow predicted patterns or timelines, can be extremely harmful. The idea that we should protect those around us when we have an uncomfortable story to tell needs to end. Being worried that people have heard your story enough times, so you had better not tell it again is so far from where we should be. People need to be allowed to tell their stories, even if it’s a hundred times over. Laugh with them, cry with them and listen to the story again. Talking to trusted people about the person you loved and lost can be an important part of the healing process.
Let the Bereaved set the pace
The hard part for the supporting friend is relinquishing control to the person experiencing the grief. Letting them set the pace and being ok with feeling uncomfortable because you don’t know what to say. Sometimes they are going to want to talk, and other times not at all. Maybe sitting in silence is what they need. We cannot dictate what a person needs to hear, and we can’t guess. Letting them lead the way is key. Acknowledge the loss even if it feels awkward because if you don’t acknowledge it can feel like the person lost has no value to you.
I have come to understand one thing that can make the biggest difference to others is always to be kind. It may sound cheesy, but you really don’t know what anyone is travelling through at any point in time. Most people are struggling with something. Everyone has their own story, and often, if we hear any of it, it’s only a tiny part.