Suicide: View From A Victim
Author: Jean; Intro: DT
Jean’s husband committed suicide almost 30 years ago. Ten years later, in response, she wrote of her experience in a 6-part series on her blog site, Pondering. She suggested it might be appropriate to re-post here.
This is a subject intensely personal but Jean was willing to share her experience that others in the same situation might gain some degree of peace.
“I think there’s value in knowing what people will do to others and often, eventually, to themselves. What they end up doing to themselves is also doing to others. The others are the ones who have to live with what happened and deal with it for the rest of their lives. The others have to choose how much guilt they will allow themselves to live with and for how long. It is often a long process.
Guilt is often not deserved or necessary. Even forgiveness isn’t always necessary because the others probably did nothing to cause the suicide. The others still have a life to live…for themselves. The best they can do is to live their life outside the shadow of what happened. Live in light.“
The subject is disturbing to some so the (very long) article is not directly posted. If you wish to read the article, you can access it here.
Thank you, DT.
DT, the link above does not go to my blog.
Fixed.
As a long time member of Al-Anon I can say that your “message” is one of the most powerful, well written messages I have ever had the experience to read or hear. With your permission I would like to copy and forward to a lot of “earth people”.
Permission granted. Thank you, Joe.
Watching my old dog, just now, laying in the open front doorway, half on the front porch, half still in the house. We’ve had our morning walk; he’s done his business, marked the places that needed to be marked, sniffed a lot of other ones, then had his breakfast. His morning chores are done. So now he’s just watching the world. We live on a horse farm, so there is some activity – especially in the morning, and right now he’s just watching his slice of paradise, scanning for a recalcitrant coyote, about as happy and content as a well-lived dog with the aches and pains and infirmities of old age can be. He will continue to hobble around as best he can, living and enjoying his life as best he can, until I decide he has had enough. Or until (please God let it be so just this one, last, time) I wake up one morning to find that he has passed peacefully in his sleep.
I can only speak for myself; I can’t know the tortures that other people might be experiencing. But I can’t imagine choosing to end my life before it’s time and thereby deprive myself of tomorrow morning, and the others after it, watching my old dog happily enjoying what’s left of his. Or hearing horses whinny to each other, or ravens calling to one another across the farm, or watching eagles soar overhead hoping for a rabbit or maybe a stray chicken. It seems to me there is so much to live for in this life, so much to explore and discover and learn and witness. Even with life’s many disappointments, there is still so much for which to be grateful.
Choosing to end one’s own life is one thing. Choosing to do it in a way that will cause lifelong trauma to a presumed loved one, as a sort of going away present: a final message (“This is your fault!”) that cannot be debated, seems to me especially selfish and cowardly.
Jean’s account of her experience as a victim of her husband’s suicide is riveting, horrifying, and heartbreaking. I think that she would memorialize it and offer it for consideration is a testament to the strength of her character.
Bless you, GrayDog.
Very nicely said. Wish I had such talent to put all my thoughts into such words.
We know Jean’s good heart from her posts here.
You do have that talent …
I’ve struggled with how to comment on Jean’s story, parts of which have some familiarity to the circumstances of my family and some folks I’ve lost to both alcoholism and suicide, but I think maybe I stand a little too close to the subject to confront it adequately.
So, after trying and abjectly failing to put the words down in anything remotely resembling a respectable form, would only offer this: I feel you must be a particularly strong individual to have made it through that fire in one piece, Jean, but as John Donne said, “No man is an island.” We’re here for you when you need us.
Now go out and get yourself a road atlas and start your to do list for that PNW trip. You surely deserve it after this.
Wild, wild west…I’m struggling to come up with an appropriate response to
your (and all the comments here) thoughtful words. I’m sorry you had to experience your own trials with suicide/alcoholism in your family/friends.
I will admit your ending paragraph made me chuckle a bit. Feels like I should say “Yes, sir!”.