I read the post the other night about the death of @lauralemons. I didn’t know her real well, I did come across her on the site on occasion. Enjoyed her posts and very much appreciated the raw edge to some of her writing. That takes courage.
Source
I grew up in a generation where suicide was very much hush-hush. There was a taboo on acknowledging someone having committed suicide or talking about the person. It was like by the person choosing to end their life, their existence was snuffed out of history.
When my husband was dying, I had never had to deal with the death of a person close to me. I was at a loss on how to support and help him. This being pre-internet times I started calling organizations.
I was put in touch with a lady who then put me in touch with a chaplain at a hospital who specialized in the terminally ill and their families.
In our first conversation she had startled me by asking about what I needed to support my dealing with his death. To me, it was all about him, I was the one who wasn’t going any where. She asked me to stay in touch, which I did. We’re still in touch some thirty years later as she became a friend.
She was into suicidology and would work with communities and organizations teaching about suicide, intervention and aftermath. Over the course of several years, we’ve had many conversations on the subject.
For some time I operated a support chat room on the IRCs for those dealing with child abuse issues. People in there would often identify as depressed or suicidal. I often would discuss situations with her and get her input.
It can be terrifying dealing with someone who is actively suicidal and you don’t have enough information about the person to send emergency services to them.
I had one situation where I had a phone number for the person. I was on chat with her and she suddenly left the keyboard. I had a gut feeling something was seriously wrong. When I couldn’t raise her on the keyboard, I finally called. We had a brief, very awkward conversation and she promised to return to the keyboard.
At this point, she had not indicated she was suicidal, it was just a gut feeling for me. After she returned to the keyboard, we continued to talk until she said her husband was home and she had to get him supper.
It was a few days later before she admitted to me that she was in the kitchen when I called, holding their handgun deciding where she was going to kill herself. She returned to the keyboard only because my call caused her to hesitate. It was enough until her husband came home and she confessed what she was feeling to him.
We are still friends.
My first offline encounter with suicide was soon after I became Legion President for the first time, around 1990. A Korea war veteran member of the branch had hung himself. His brother-in-law, another veteran member, appeared at my door and asked if a service could be held for him at the branch.
My response was, of course. He then told me that he would not be allowed to be buried in the church cemetery because he had committed the mortal sin of suicide. I was startled, I’d never heard of such a thing. It was pretty common though. I contacted the branch chaplain and explained the situation. We set the service up.
We included the Legion tribute in the service which is a file past of all Legion members in attendance where we pause at the casket or the picture of the deceased, pay our respects and lay a poppy in remembrance. His tribute included the members of the Korea Veterans Association in attendance as well.
The chaplain had asked me when she arrived how she should address the suicide issue. My response was that it was up to the family. The branch is to work with the family, not direct the family.
When we were about ready to start, I asked the chaplain what the family’s response was. She said the family wanted nothing said. I nodded.
As the tribute drew to a close, the chaplain leaned toward me and whispered, “I really feel the elephant in the room needs to be addressed.” I agreed with her but didn’t comment, I responded that the spiritual was her domain, not mine.
Just before the service ended, she stepped up and stated she felt a need to talk about suicide. I held my breath, not sure how this was going to go.
She talked about how suicide is one of the hardest deaths to understand. That we can’t comprehend the dark dark place he was in and we can’t blame ourselves for not ‘seeing signs’ because there might not have been any. In the dark place he was, he believed he was doing the right thing by committing suicide. It doesn’t make sense to those not in that dark place but, it made sense to him.
I watched the family as she spoke. Some never wavered on their expressions, some I could see nodding slightly. The veterans present showed signs of restlessness.
When the service ended I sent the chaplain to explain herself to the family while the rest of the assembled retired to the next room for a luncheon. Several of the veterans present came to me and remarked they were not happy with the chaplain.
When the chaplain returned from talking to the family, she reported they were relieved it was out in the open and that the clergy present had not condemned their departed loved one.
That was back then. These days, people are slowly becoming more open about suicide. Canada lost 158 soldiers in combat in Afghanistan. We’ve lost that many and more to suicide as the result of PTSD developed from service in Afghanistan and other conflicts.
There are no magic ways of stopping suicide. We can try to reach out to the person in pain and most importantly getting them the help of professionals. We can be sensitive and willing to listen but, ultimately, something needs to connect inside the person so they can hold on even another day or week.
To give themself a chance to climb out of that dark dark place.
If you like this, please follow me and upvote the post.
If you’d like to see the other days I’ve posted, just visit my profile
If you’d like to be notified when I post next, join my mailing list here.
If you’d like to join my curation trail on Streemian, please click here
