If you know someone who died by suicide, I am so very sorry for your loss. If the death by suicide was recent, I realize this is a confusing and heavy time. In the face of such traumatic loss, you may notice changes cognitively, emotionally, and physically. As you move through this article, do not be alarmed if concentration is difficult–Grief Brain is real. Be gentle with yourself, and move along at your own pace. My hope is to support you as you navigate this very difficult time.
I want to share a list of resources that continue to support me on my grief journey since my son, Ryan, died by suicide.
American Foundation for Suicide Prevention
David Kessler - grief specialist, author, and a bereaved parent.
He also has a podcast on Spotifyhttps://open.spotify.com/show/1PYZ3ws1OFVWLkT4vc7GlS?si=NfSV9MylQ5GTmyfrNMLdOg
Spiritual group of bereaved parents - Lots of resources and a YouTube Channel
Alan Wolfelt, PHD - I read a daily message from his book 365 Days of Understanding Your Grief. I highly recommend it. I am now working through his Journal
Dial or text 988 for the Suicide & Mental Health Crisis Line
The death of someone you love to suicide is often shocking, complicated, and heartbreaking. It leaves so many unanswered questions, and it compounds the grieving process. If you are mourning the loss of someone to suicide, I want to share my story to give you a glimmer of hope.
My grief journey began on June 10, 2021, when I found out the unimaginable–my dear son, Ryan Michael, died by suicide. I am all too familiar with the initial upending pain, and the subsequent grief that follows losing someone to suicide. Even as I write this two years later, the reality remains disorienting and surreal, and feels like the wind is being knocked out of me. I won’t take you back to the details of that day–I prefer to take you to the present.
Being present in the moment has been a hard journey since Ryan transitioned. When I reflect back on the first year after Ryan’s death, at the beginning I was in a haze of shock. My grief made me feel as if I were walking through mud, and I was unable to read or pay attention to anything for very long. Everything seemed slower, harder, and out of focus. At times I felt that I was losing my mind. Then I would go to constant obsessive and intrusive thoughts which consumed me, woke me up, and kept me from sleeping and eating. It was as if my mind would go into overdrive and then shut down when it became too much–as though I were driving with my foot on both the accelerator and the brake. That is what trauma does and the arms of trauma reach out to friends, family, co-workers, and your community all at once.
Looking back now, I now know I was in traumatic grief. While I continue to miss my son daily, I can also say that I do not run from my grief–I embrace it, honor it, and feel it fully. Grief expert and author, David Kessler, has a saying: “remember with more love and less pain.” I work at that daily. I want to remember my son with LOVE. I am determined not to allow the pain of death to prevent me from working towards EXACTLY that. Remembering Ryan with MORE LOVE and less pain. At the beginning, it felt like a thread of hope–now it is a foundation to my rise out of the depths of grief, and this foundation is built on my love for Ryan. I continue to sit with my feelings as they arise, let them surface, process the emotion, and then slowly they release their grip. Mourning is hard work, or better yet, Heart Work–and it is vital to my life journey now. This practice of being in my emotions can feel overwhelming, yet coming out from the other side each time grief shows up, I feel lighter, and more hopeful. My grief is softening and I am remembering Ryan with more love and less pain.
If you are familiar with Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, you may have heard of DABDA– the five stages of grief. These five stages of grief are Denial, Anger, Bartering, Depression, and Acceptance. A friend asked me early on, “What stage of grief do you think you are in now?” I was dumbfounded. I believe I answered, “I feel like my emotions are like a pinball in a pinball machine–I can be all over the place, second to second, day to day.” I felt so misunderstood, and a sense of pressure to move through the stages neatly and then be done. We live in a grief-illiterate world that piles on shame and guilt to people in grief. I have learned-or unlearned a lot about grief these past two years. The only thing I know for sure about grief is that grief is never the same for two people–it can be messy, and unpredictable, and it is unique to YOU. Grief is not linear, predictable, or a progression. Grief does not end, but grief does change. Grief has the ability to reshape the way you see the world. How I have chosen to allow grief to shape me is the only thing I can say that I experienced as something I have any “control” over on any of my grief journeys. I allow grief to soften my heart, widen my perceptual lens and now it has changed my career path. I now am a Life Coach with a focus on grief and life transitions.
For some, anger can become so intense, and it feels like it has nowhere to go. Anger is normal, and it needs to have a healthy outlet. Therapy, support groups, guttural screaming, and expressive arts are just a few healthy ways of expressing anger. Give it safe space to release. Maybe you had a complicated relationship with someone who has died by suicide, and you just want them to come back so you can have a “re-do” and clear up unfinished business.
Holding on to shame that someone you know died by suicide can intensify grief, and it can even send you into denial due to the stigma surrounding suicide. No matter what your feelings are, let me assure you–there is no “right” way to do grief. It is a personal journey. The only “wrong” way to do grief is to not feel your feelings. To deny your feelings is only to bury them temporarily. Eventually, all the feelings you have stored away will become too much and emerge through what is called “delayed grief.” This can show up in many ways including a sudden overwhelm of emotions, a mental crisis, or a physical manifestation. I encourage you to give yourself grace and allow your feelings to flow through you, or eventually they will blow out of you! Picture a volcano versus a moving river.
The grief I am experiencing two years after Ryan died by suicide is different than the grief I experienced the day he died. My grief for Ryan is different every day. At the beginning it was a blur of numbness, and it continues to shift and change. I now know that special days and holidays have me teeter towards depression. Self-care takes top priority during times of anticipatory grief. I make sure I do not overextend myself and schedule sessions with my grief therapist.
The dreaded firsts–I remember the first time someone asked me how many children I had after Ryan transitioned. I was sitting in a hiking hut in New Hampshire after a hard day of hiking with a group of women I did not know. I could feel the conversation moving towards THE QUESTION, and I wanted to run. My friend I was hiking with had stepped away from the table. THAT QUESTION–I used to love to answer–felt like a bomb dropped in my gut that exploded up to my heart. “So how many kids do you have Donna?” I looked down and took a breath to try to compose myself and when I looked up I could feel the tears filling my eyes. One of the women immediately and quietly said, “Oh no”. I answered back quietly, “That is a really hard question for me to answer.” I took in another slow breath, trying to feel my feet on the ground. I fumbled and came back with something like, “I had two children–my son died by suicide four months ago, this is really my first time doing anything with people that do not know me, and I have not answered that question yet.” The two women across from me gave their heartfelt sympathies, and the third woman said with a sneer, “It sucks, and you never get over it–it is not fair and I am still angry after ten years.” Her entire demeanor just sent a shock through me, and I sat there wide-eyed with tears still rolling down my face. I looked up and saw my friend, and she came quickly to sit by me and placed a comforting hand on my arm. She just looked me in the eyes, and I told her I thought I needed to get up and go to the room. She followed me and asked, “They asked how many kids you had, didn't they?” I nodded yes. I then turned to her and said, “Ellen, if I EVER become bitter and angry, please slap the shit out of me. Ryan would not want me to become that.'' We cried and we laughed and then cried again. I have gotten through and survived the year of “dreaded firsts,” it could feel raw and heartbreaking. The dreaded firsts are HARD–some are expected and some are unexpected. These days, I find the anticipation of the holidays, his birthday, and special days are harder than the actual day itself. I have made new traditions that honor the memory of my son, and make me feel close to him.
At first my grief made me feel abnormal, and now I embrace it as my new normal. This “new normal” has added a new dimension to my life–something I never anticipated. It has made me keenly aware of and appreciative of the little things in life–the simple beauties. It has reshaped what I am grateful for and what is really important to me. During the first year without my son here on earth, I did not know how to go on without him–now I do most things in honor of my son. I am finding new purpose and meaning, and I know that my son is proud of me.
I cannot go back and change the fact that Ryan died by suicide. I know that going down the rabbit hole of “could’ve, should’ve, would’ve” will send me spiraling and make me lose sight of any optimism I muster. My life’s focus is now on honoring the kind, epic, and loving life that Ryan led by helping spread suicide awareness, and supporting others affected by suicide. By staying present in what I CAN DO, I heal my heart and honor Ryan at the same time.
I have found my own path for being compassionate with myself while my heart continues to heal. Here are some practices that have helped me:
*Allowing myself to mourn
*Surrounding myself with friends, family and Ryan’s friends that continue to share stories, photos, songs that keep Ryan’s memory alive.
*Practicing the power of “AND” Grief and Joy, yes they can co-exist.
*I am dedicated to grief therapy.
I participate in healing grief groups.I am committed to keeping things simple.
*I work at preventing myself from becoming overwhelmed.
*I try hard to own my “yes” and to say a firm “no.”
*I do not feel guilty when I say “maybe.” I do not know how I will feel on any given day, so it is hard to commit to future plans.
*I continue to focus on goals that have meaning to me and give me hope. (For me that has been through fundraising and raising awareness about The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. AFSP has been my foundation of hope.)
*I try to live a life that Ryan is proud of. “Be Kind, Be Epic, Be Love” is a saying that my sister and his friend Katie came up with to honor the way Ryan lived his life, and this saying is my mantra.
*I engage in Volunteer work that is meaningful.
Self-care is important for everyone. I urge you to find a self care practice and mindset that will support you.
I have a self care practice of coming back to the present moment. I start with feeling my feet firmly on the ground, then mindfully take slow inhalations and slower exhalations. I pay attention to the current sensations–sight, touch, sight, smell and sound. I feel my heart beat–this broken heart that continues to beat. More times than not, when I “return,” I find my hand over my heart–my heart that I honor, my heart that was shattered to bits on that day in June, my heart that is slowly mending. Each piece is coming back into place fuller, more aware and more loving. Each repair is done in memory of my son’s life. My heart is learning to remember with more love and less pain.
In Loving Memory of Ryan Michael Waple
1986-2021
#Be Kind, Be Epic, Be Love
What an eloquent description of your experience. I lost my daughter and at some point afterward I decided that her death was not going to be ALL that defined her life or mine. I couldn’t allow that event to be more important than the million others before she passed. It is so easy to lose yourself in the grief but to me it diminishes everything she was, everything she was to me and our family to nothing but pain. What an insult that would be.
There are times when I languish and to be honest I am way more of a volcano than a river, but I keep trying to choose love. Surviving this loss is sometimes bone crushing, but…