At 4 am on December 18, 2010, two sheriff’s deputies knocked on our front door. When I answered, one of them began with those infamous words, we regret to inform you…
My youngest son, Mike was dead at the age of 23.
And yes, it was by his own hand, suicide.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it!
– How was I supposed to feel?
– What was the right thing to think?
– What should I be focused on?
– What should I be feeling?
– How do I DO this?!!!
I remember sitting alongside my husband on our couch, feeling lost, bereft, so confused.
Again and again and asking one another, ‘ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠? ’
The pain, confusion, questions, judgment, expectations… overwhelming.
That was in December of 2010. Turmoil is the best word I can think of at the moment to describe thoughts and feelings.
But that’s not where I stayed, thank God.
I found my way.
It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fast. It was messy.
Uncomfortable and painful in ways I could not have imagined.
Now here I am, all these years later.
– My life is incredibly good once again.
– Joy lives in my home and in my heart.
So much healing has happened.
I will forever be grateful that I do not walk this path alone.
Walking this path, through grief into healing is not one any of us would have chosen. And yet, here we are.
You are not alone. You matter. Healing is possible.