Mothers, Brothers and Others Left Behind

Obviously the loss of a loved one is earth-shattering for just about anyone. Losing a loved one unexpectedly is mind numbing. Losing a teenage child to suicide is completely debilitating… for a time. I must confess, I had already considered the awful thought. I used to rock them to sleep at night and sang to them (all my babies). Simon and Garfunkel, John Denver, mostly Don McLean. When I got to the part in “Starry, Starry Night” where Van Gogh commits suicide I always hummed that part… “…and when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night you took your life as lovers often do…” but I could have told you, Robbie, “this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”

No matter how much I wanted to protect them from everything, changing the lyrics of songs as I hummed their lullabies didn’t have a whole lot of effect on McLean’s original lyrics, Van Gogh’s history, or saving me from my worst fears. I also wondered what I would do if anything ever happened to my baby (when there was only one). With my first child I was sure I would just die if anything ever happened to him. With my second (Robbie) there was, of course, the same anticipated anguish but then there was Nick. I couldn’t just leave Nick. Then there came James Peter. My three sons. Leaving, for me, was no longer an option. Ever. Word to the wise moms, once you have more than one you’re in for the long haul. You no longer have the luxury of crumbling.

So, faced with one of my worst fears I had to confront the other two loves of my life (aside from my incomparable husband) with something they never even fathomed. I’ve had to do that. Comfort them, help them deal with the ugly reality of it all, aaaannnnddd keep myself from the inclination to, as Sinatra said, “…roll myself up in a big ball and die.” Ah, the song lyrics again. “My, my.” I called my oldest son within the hour of learning the news. He was, of course, in a state of shock. My youngest son (another night owl) was still sleeping. My husband told him when he woke that day.

When I “step back” sometimes and survey my life, I think to myself, “When I was 4 years old my daddy died, when I was in my twenties I drove across country alone (before cell phones, GPS, or Google Maps kids). At almost 30 I had my first child, by 40 there were 3 children. At 52 my child committed suicide.” It sounds pretty dang pitiful when I put it in that little nutshell. I’m sure on other days, in cheerier frames of mind I’d be able to manage to include a few lighter moments in my record but at the moment the focus is rather grim. However, focus can be adjusted.

It’s not just me anymore. Not just my nightmare come true. I'm not the only one left behind. This is reality for my other two boys now. Part of their “life story”. This very sad and unsettling reality combined with my ability or inability to somehow guide them through as best I can. I’m not good at this… I’m very sad and confused. I really would much rather just take a bow and exit stage left. However, I have a very important supporting role to play in the life stories of at least two extremely precious people. They deserve my very best effort. I can’t protect them from everything, obviously. I can, however, do my very best to support them through anything else life throws at them. I’m far from perfect, maybe even a little warped by the rain at this point, but I’m sincere in my efforts. Perhaps by the end we’ll be able to say, “Our lives were full, we lived to be old, we loved each other through the worst, now our stories have been told.”