Repost from 6.8.18: Trying to Help Others

As the launch of our website coincides with National Suicide Awareness Month, I felt it was important to share these posts again. They are hard for me to read because of the rawness, the realness of it all. If you are reading this it means you are loved, you are needed, YOU matter.

Its been three months since Heather’s death by suicide. And as that anniversary ticked by I thought about all that has happened in my life in the last three months besides her passing. Nothing spectacular or especially noteworthy, but life has happened, daily life stuff that prior to March 5^th I would have shared with Heather and she would have been happy to hear. Zoe had an outstanding finish to her gymnastics season. Zara is officially registered for kindergarten. We FINALLY settled on a color and repainted most of our downstairs and replaced the ugly chair I’ve hated for nearly a decade. We celebrated our 14^th wedding anniversary…which this year coincided with the 10^th anniversary of my father in law’s passing (that’s another post altogether). But then I think about the milestones that Heather would have achieved in the last 3 months and its hard not to feel breathless and heartbroken. She would have celebrated her 40^th birthday. She would have welcomed her first child. Her due date was especially tough for me, its been written on my calendar since September…over the ENTIRE day. With a heart. There was no way to get around it. I could have erased it, but it still would have been there. As I fought this week to not let all the heavy stuff pull me down, the news of Kate Spade’s suicide broke, and as the details were shared of the days leading up to her death, I was shocked at how similar the things her family shared were to my experience with Heather. The day before Heather died was a Sunday. I woke up to my phone buzzing with text messages from her, as I so often did on weekend mornings. That particular day, the text messages included a 3D ultrasound picture of her baby. We discussed who we thought the baby looked like and as the morning wore on and texts continued, as they so often did on nearly every Sunday morning, I complained that Zoe was reading over my shoulder, and that Zara was a wild child…including a video of her crazy behavior as it was happening. Heather seemed to laugh and asked where she got her crazy personality. Heather shared she was concerned that raising a girl was difficult and that “they” say boys are easier. I responded with “I don’t know this ‘they’ you speak of, but I know plenty of boys and at this point my girls are way easier.” That comment worried me a little, but I knew Heather was anxious about this huge life change and was doing my best to reassure her that all would be well. But never, ever in a million years did I even consider the possibility that this worry and anxiety was so overwhelming to her that she would end it all. I was concerned about post-partem depression and had already informed my husband I would be by her side for as long as necessary once the baby arrived. I’ve read and reread all our texts scrolling back as far as my phone would allow, and of course with the gift of hindsight I see where her tone and frequency of text changed. Unfortunately, that was during an especially busy, but happy time in my life…we were in Disney World. I think I was looking at the messages, or lack thereof, through Pixie Dust. I wrongly assumed her lack of communication was because she knew we were away and not because her struggles were worsening. But that Sunday before she passed, she had everyone close to her fooled into believing she had rounded the corner. No one saw that Monday coming. And there are so many of us that loved her so deeply, not one of us would have left her alone that day had we had any idea she was even contemplating ending her life. Just like Kate Spade’s family. And sadly now, just like Anthony Bourdain’s family. 
The statistics released just this week from the CDC regarding suicide rates are beyond alarming. This epidemic must be stopped; it is preventable. I have thankfully never known the depths of darkness those that contemplate or carry out suicide experience, but I couldn’t agree more with a quote a friend recently shared, “Suicide doesn’t take the pain away, it gives it to someone else.” I would argue it takes your pain and exacerbates it by about a million times and spreads it around. While the world hasn’t mourned for Heather the way they have for Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, her world has mourned and continues to do so. She left a vast emptiness behind that will never be filled. I wish I could go back and let her know how much she was loved and needed. How much her presence mattered to all of us. Of course, I can’t do that, but I will do my best to make sure everyone in my world knows just how much I need every single one of them. If you’re reading this and wondering if you’re in that world…rest assured, you are.