Suicide and the Hemingway's (continued)
As I began sharing in the first part of this blog the Hemingway's came from a long list of family members who commited suicide. They are an example that tells us that none of us are completely null to this happening to us or we ourselves ending our life. I wanted to continue this dialog because I feel a deep relevance because my sister commited suicide. Iw ould like to share that story with all of you in hope that it will be of some help to anyone out there who feels that kind of pain and darkness.
One Saturday morning I got up to a call where the person on the other line shared that my sister was a Cook County and that it was serious. I was given an address to go to but not told it was the city mourg. At the same time my brother was being contacted or I called him up, I am unsure as to which, I don't recall. By the time I arrived at the address I pulled up in my car with my wife and noticed my brother's car. He stepped out of the car crying and shared that our sister was "dead". My heart sank and I thought of all kinds of things. When it settled inside of me I was furious at her then husband who'd abused her mentally for at least two years or more. A person who he himself was troubled had in fact been partially responsible for my sister's death at her own hands. I did not know anything and at that juncture did not care. I was in such disbelief I could not think straight. I got back my car, drove to her apartment, knocked on the door and her former mother in law opened the door. I asked for her husband and was directed to the living room where he was crying. I looked at him straight in the face and said "You are a snake, that is what you are, a snake" and proceeded to walk out and back to my car. My wife waited in the car concerned as to what I would do and why I had gone to the house. I did not say a word on the way there nor on the way home. I cried for two weeks as I swept the floor or cleaned a table knowing fully how well my sister took care of her husband and child. Now this little boy was left without a mother.
My sister's husband then did what was usual for him and left his child under the care of his mother and father both of whom seemed to have mental issues. In fact his mother was bipolar and she would have episodes of anger that she would take out on my sister since she owned and lived in the same building as her. Eventually my nephew settled down but he had a horrible time navigating the death of his mother and life itself. I never heard from him or his dad again until my nephew became an adult and attended his daughter's sweet sixteen elaborate party. I remember looking at him and feeling badly for him and the decisions he'd made that were not in his highest good. He seemed happy on the outside but what I was told by his daughter was that he likely had a drinking problem. I cannot say that I blamed him after losing his mom to suicide and being abandoned by his father, basically dropped off at his grandparent;s home like a peice of property.
When suicide happens in a family one wonders what one could have done to avoid it. I spent many months if not years asking myself if I could have saved her and judging the kind of sibliing I was not to have been able to stop her. Suicide in a family truly breaks you and makes you think about how you are living your own life. It was shorty after that I made a decision to get divorced. The pain of my sister's death elicited a truth in me about being gay and married and I decided I would not be unhappily married and admit my truth and live authentically. A death of someone you love makes you think about your life. It makes you ponder your purpose in life and it's like taking a dose of truth potion. I asked my wife for a divorce and eventually admitted that I had feelings for men. All I recall is that we both cried and there was a moment of grieving. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. That suicide led me to do my best to live my truth but I never got over the death of my sister completely. It is the kind of thing that one never forgets, down to the details of that day.
There is a part of me that is so angry at suicide and at my sister and then there is the part where I feel like she and others have a right to end their life the way they deem it. Still it is hard to consume this thinking when I myself battle with the idea that suicide is justified. In the darkest places of my soul I will only say that I turn over each dark day to God and that he alone can take it from me. I also feel like there is enough joy inside me to take me to the other side where the light reflects onto me and there is another dawning. I think it imporant to share that it is not without hard work that I maintain my life in tact if not somewhat in tact. I do my best not to feel sorry for myself and to give thanks for wanting and having life now.
One Saturday morning I got up to a call where the person on the other line shared that my sister was a Cook County and that it was serious. I was given an address to go to but not told it was the city mourg. At the same time my brother was being contacted or I called him up, I am unsure as to which, I don't recall. By the time I arrived at the address I pulled up in my car with my wife and noticed my brother's car. He stepped out of the car crying and shared that our sister was "dead". My heart sank and I thought of all kinds of things. When it settled inside of me I was furious at her then husband who'd abused her mentally for at least two years or more. A person who he himself was troubled had in fact been partially responsible for my sister's death at her own hands. I did not know anything and at that juncture did not care. I was in such disbelief I could not think straight. I got back my car, drove to her apartment, knocked on the door and her former mother in law opened the door. I asked for her husband and was directed to the living room where he was crying. I looked at him straight in the face and said "You are a snake, that is what you are, a snake" and proceeded to walk out and back to my car. My wife waited in the car concerned as to what I would do and why I had gone to the house. I did not say a word on the way there nor on the way home. I cried for two weeks as I swept the floor or cleaned a table knowing fully how well my sister took care of her husband and child. Now this little boy was left without a mother.
My sister's husband then did what was usual for him and left his child under the care of his mother and father both of whom seemed to have mental issues. In fact his mother was bipolar and she would have episodes of anger that she would take out on my sister since she owned and lived in the same building as her. Eventually my nephew settled down but he had a horrible time navigating the death of his mother and life itself. I never heard from him or his dad again until my nephew became an adult and attended his daughter's sweet sixteen elaborate party. I remember looking at him and feeling badly for him and the decisions he'd made that were not in his highest good. He seemed happy on the outside but what I was told by his daughter was that he likely had a drinking problem. I cannot say that I blamed him after losing his mom to suicide and being abandoned by his father, basically dropped off at his grandparent;s home like a peice of property.
When suicide happens in a family one wonders what one could have done to avoid it. I spent many months if not years asking myself if I could have saved her and judging the kind of sibliing I was not to have been able to stop her. Suicide in a family truly breaks you and makes you think about how you are living your own life. It was shorty after that I made a decision to get divorced. The pain of my sister's death elicited a truth in me about being gay and married and I decided I would not be unhappily married and admit my truth and live authentically. A death of someone you love makes you think about your life. It makes you ponder your purpose in life and it's like taking a dose of truth potion. I asked my wife for a divorce and eventually admitted that I had feelings for men. All I recall is that we both cried and there was a moment of grieving. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. That suicide led me to do my best to live my truth but I never got over the death of my sister completely. It is the kind of thing that one never forgets, down to the details of that day.
There is a part of me that is so angry at suicide and at my sister and then there is the part where I feel like she and others have a right to end their life the way they deem it. Still it is hard to consume this thinking when I myself battle with the idea that suicide is justified. In the darkest places of my soul I will only say that I turn over each dark day to God and that he alone can take it from me. I also feel like there is enough joy inside me to take me to the other side where the light reflects onto me and there is another dawning. I think it imporant to share that it is not without hard work that I maintain my life in tact if not somewhat in tact. I do my best not to feel sorry for myself and to give thanks for wanting and having life now.
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