This past Tuesday, May 1st, was the anniversary of my husband’s death. I went to the wake of my friend’s sister. Another suicide. I entered the hush and muted light of the funeral home, letting the door close on the cruelly beautiful spring afternoon. My friend stood with family and friends in front of her sister’s casket and as she turned towards me, we recognized each other in a terrible way. We held each other and wept. My tears were for the unimaginable loss of her beloved sister (the anguish!) but also for the fact that she has been thrust over into this terrible place. The terrain of suicide survivors is harsh. The wound left by the self-inflicted death of a loved one is ragged, violent and festers in a place so deep and dark, that getting to a place of healing or peace seems an impossible journey. Despair is complicated by anger and our memories forever haunted by unanswerable questions. I am sorry for my beautiful friend. I am sorry for anyone joining this awful club. We are already too many – the why?’s and what if…’s, endlessly echoing between us.
So sorry for your friend. It’s a blessing that she has you to lean on through such a painful time. Wishing her peace. Ng
I think your book will help people in this position. I hope so.