Hey, Frank.
You’ve been gone for less than a day now. All day long, I’ve been turning my thoughts and feelings over and over again, as if they were colored pencils that if arranged just right, could lead me to some clarity. I’ve gotten nowhere. I’m in pain. That’s your damn legacy.
I barely knew you and I didn’t feel comfortable around you. The first time I met you in our online group, it was after someone told me you scared them. See, I’m an admin, so I am responsible for fixing things that don’t go well. I was on-call that night. You screamed, “Fuck you!!!” So I cautioned you against cussing at people. It was what I had to do, Frank.
Guilty? I twirled my guilt around and knew it was not true, but I felt it all day nonetheless. I know I did the right thing, but no one knows that I walked away after that because your darkness scared me. Sickened me. When I saw your name pop up, I felt like a black widow was about to bite me, so I ran. I ran.
Sad? I felt like crying all day, so that means I feel sad, I suppose, but the tears are frozen.
Tempted to hurt myself? Of course. When someone takes their life, it feels familiar, like the smell of a cigarette wafting through the summer air, and I would reach for it, until I remember that I am stronger than that. It’s not simple though. At one point today, I tried to tell my husband how much I was hurting, but he had a really bad day today too, and for an instant, the pain roared so loud that I felt like the only way I could make it stop was to hurt myself. It was too loud, and I needed peace.
I did not. I will not Frank. I reject your death as a beacon or a guidepost. When the pain and the guilt and the sadness sing too dissonant of a melody inside me, I search for the brightest light I can find, and I murmur a prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, and I pray, Frank, I pray that He will watch over me. And he does.
Angry? All day. We only knew you for a little while. Do you know what your daughter said to us? When one of us told her that you said you loved your daughter? You know what she said Frank? “No, he meant his real daughter. She was very important to him. I’m just his stepdaughter.” Right. So you couldn’t treat the people you left behind with compassion the last time you spoke to them or about them.
I am not supposed to write this note. I’m supposed to rise above it and express my condolences to your family, but I can’t do that. I can’t be the responsible one tonight. I lost my chance to be responsible when I walked past my computer at 1:36 a.m. last night, and because my hands were shaking from my seizure medications, I did not check in one last time to see if you were okay. Instead, I crawled into bed beside my husband and I held him really tight and slept beside him–the man I love.
I don’t know where you are or even what form you take. Is your soul somewhere better, with a cold breeze blowing in from the trees overlooking a dark blue lake? Is it floating, higher and higher, like an out-of-control balloon released from a small child’s hand? Or did your troubled soul pass into an empty space, caught between being and not being, swirling, lost and still searching for a place to land?
I have no answers tonight Frank. My mind is no closer to finding a point to all of this than you were to finding peace of mind. I suppose we all must say farewell one day.
To those of you who read this, I pray that your final day does not come for a long time. I pray that when you must go, you fight like hell right up until the final moment, but that when you take your final breath, you breathe in hope for something better.
Fare thee well Frank. Fare thee well.
Aw El. I know you were struggling with this today. It’s awful. It really is. You were not responsible. And you have to know that. We can’t save everyone. And for some people, the pain in living is so great they cannot see their way out of the hole. You do your best trying to help. And you o a great job. Don’t let this undo you.
Thank you so much my friend. I do–I know all of that . . . and I am feeling so much better after a good night’s sleep and a run by the lake. xoxo
Thank you for sharing this post, and for allowing your readers to help shoulder your burden. Those of us who have been where you are tonight understand completely. And you have our support.
Marc: thank you so much, for your kindness and support. I read your comment late the other night and smiled. It made me feel reassured. xo
Oh El it is hard to like this except so you know there is support for you as you struggle with your feelings of hurt, pain and anger. Sometimes it is to much, sometimes the lack of compassion we have for others is what pushes us to that final step, but please know it wasn’t you; you could not stop this. Suicide is horrific and final, the answers we want are never there, we struggle with that darkness forever if we don’t learn to have compassion for ourselves. Please know, as Marc has said you have our support. Rage if you need to, we will be here, we will help to lift you up when you need a shoulder to stand on. XXXX Val
Morning Valentine!! I took a breather from the online world for a couple of days and I am feeling so much better today. And I do know it wasn’t me . . . I went ahead and wrote that really raw post because I needed to . . .and maybe it will help someone, somewhere, remember how much destruction would be left behind if they took their lives. Much love and gratitude to you Val!!!
Glad you are okay. This tugged, it was heartbreaking.
Some people’s troubles are way beyond the cognizant. Mental illness takes over and no matter how much reasoning you try to do with them, they have to do what they think is best to end the suffering. Some things are just beyond our control. Let your feelings run their course and you’ll be ok, hon. But you already know that.
Morning Madge!! And well-said re mental illness. And yes!! I am okay–it helped to talk it through. Thank you for listening!! xo
How well I know those feelings you’ve shared. Much love and hugs to you. KNOW that it wasn’t your fault, we’re all here to support you.
I”m at a loss for words, so a simple “I’m Sorry” is all I have. It’s a heartfelt one, a deep into my core “I’m sorry”. I hate that you are hurting.
Carrie: thank you so much my dear friend–I hear you and felt comforted when I read your note. After a run, a good night’s sleep, and some time, I am feeling refreshed and invigorated today. You know: alive and kicking and grateful, both for the life we have and friends like you.
El, this is a beautiful post. You write through your pain and you never cease to amaze me. You are not the responsible one my friend. You are so incredibly supportive…you always go above and beyond. I love you El…you are an inspiration to me and so many others. xoxo Ella
Thank you so much my dear friend. It helped to write that one out–to see it on paper and then to let it go. I love you too.
Wow El! What a heartfelt and heart wrenching post. I too knew when I saw Frank arrive that he was in trouble, in a very dark and angry place. I did not see his final posts until yesterday, but knew upon reading them, that he in fact was in the process of taking his life. It is always heart breaking to know that anyone is in such pain that they feel the only way out is by ending their lives. Although I did not interact with Frank at all, I still feel such empathy for anyone that comes across my path whether on my fanpage or others’ pages or the many groups I belong to. Somehow when suicide enters once again, it brings up my own loss of my late husband Rob and I remember like it was just yesterday, even though it was over 11 years ago. I remember his absolute turmoil, the confusion, the repetitive thoughts telling him this is what he must do to solve his many unfounded and unrealized concerns. I remember the look in his eyes, that of a caged and trapped animal, but his cage was his own mind.
I no longer feel pain when I think of Rob, but will always feel very sad that he felt he had no other options and that even doing all that I could to keep him alive, I was unable to. It is this same feeling of helplessness that comes whenever I encounter someone suicidal. I always keep calm, I know what to do and do my best to connect and give them hope and help, but we lose far too many even when we do our best. I have learned to accept that now, although learning of Frank’s suicide really impacted me emotionally all day yesterday as well. I realized upon learning of his death that we’d lost yet another person to suicide. Although I didn’t know him personally, I can imagine his turmoil and know that his loved ones will now begin a journey none of them ever wanted to be on.
I’m sorry this impacted you El, and had such emotional impact for you as well. As an Admin for the page, you did what you had to do and it’s not always pleasant. Sending you good healing energy as you process this loss and all that it brought up for you personally as well.
Hugs! Barb
Dear Barb:
Thank you so much for your kind note! I cannot tell you how much comfort your understanding and wise words gave me when I read this yesterday. You captured, in your description of Rob’s feeling like a caged animal, exactly how Frank seemed to feel. And it is so hard, so dangerous, to approach a caged animal.
I am so glad you don’t feel pain when you think about Rob. You know, as do I, that we cannot help people who won’t accept the help. And we do lose people every day. I reckon we need to focus on the ones we’ve helped–the ones who’ve wanted the help.
Many hugs right back to you!!
El
Dear, dear El. My heart aches for you. I wish you lived nearby, so I could have come and just sat with you. Praying that God’s love surrounds, enfolds, protects and blesses you, now and always.
My dear Trece: I read your note yesterday with so much gratitude. I realized I was just exhausted, so I slept a lot yesterday, took a lovely run at night, and today–gosh, I feel invigorated and happy to be alive. Much love to you!!
What you spoke over his death is profound, and important. People can control how they live and treat others, and no matter how isolated you think you are your death will always influence people. This proves it. I’m so glad you have a man who you love and who loves you to hold tightly to. And on those days when you’re both in pain, I hope you shout that pain to a friend or put on screamo music or tell Jesus about it because you’re too valuable to be hurt by anyone, much less by yourself. Thanks so much for writing this. Love, Ellie Ann
Good morning Ellie Ann!
Thank you so much for your kind remarks yesterday. I read that, felt lifted up, and smiled.
I took a day off from the online world and rested, took a run around the lake, and refocused my energy. I realized that I was just exhausted.
And aye: I am blessed by a loving man and three beautiful children. Whenever I feel rough, I look around at what I have and it helps redirect me. And yes: I have prayed many times when I had no one else to talk to and God ALWAYS listening to me. Thank you for being there for me!
Love,
El
A firefighter runs into a burning building while others are running out. Your bravery is like that.
Honestly, Lisa, that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so, so much!! xoxo
God bless you Elle……continue to fight the good fight…..
Thank you so much Deb!! And God bless you too!!!
Wow – as the daughter of a father who committed suicide – this resonnates deeply and profoundly. A very wise doctor once told my mother that my father died from depression. It was that simple. And that forgiving. Because the survivors live with guilt and all of the ‘could have’ – ‘should have’ – ‘what if’ – scenarios that haunt and distort. But to say one died from disease – depression – is to open a door that all of us can lift our heads and walk through. Thank you for all that you do and for printing this piece.