Amanda's friends still refer to our home as "Amanda's house" when they tell people where they are. It will always be Amanda's house, Amanda's BMW, Amanda's family and dog. You know... I'm totally okay with that too. It warms my heart from within. It means they still feel her here in our home and hopefully it will always be a place of comfort and security for them.
Even though it's been over two years since her death, she never leaves my mind and my heart still aches for her. I'm able to pull myself together every day by focusing on the good memories. I like to look over at the passenger seat of my car where she would have been rushing to put on her make up before school, leaving foundation finger smudges on my rear view mirror. I imagine her so vividly that I can feel her warmth next to me and see her look over at me and smile. I rarely have a day when I'm driving to work and my mind doesn't drift back to memories of the day we lost her and the days that followed. I replay every moment in slow motion, as tears gently burn their trace across my skin. Where I was when I got the call, who was in the room with me, the guilt over not answering my phone the first time Lauren called me because my meeting at work seemed more important, having to make those heart wrenching calls to the rest of our family to tell them to "Come home. Please come home". Having my boss walk me to her car to drive me home and pleading gently with God the whole way there. The overwhelming love and support from friends, family, and even strangers. Oh... And all of the flowers that were delivered that week. It's weird how something so beautiful can feel so suffocating. I relive this almost every day. When I get to work, I dry my eyes, take a deep breath, say a prayer to tell her I love her, and move forward.
I don't want to remember that day or the time that followed, but it's a part of my memory just as strong as the day I gave birth to her. I wonder what it would be like if she were still here. What job she would have, who her boyfriend would be, what fashion style she would be rocking, and whether I would have been wise enough to know I should cherish everything about her or would I just take for granted each moment I had been blessed to share with her. Sometimes I hear the shenanigans her friends get into and think "well... At least I don't have to go through that or worry about Amanda making poor choices" and then I'm filled with instant regret because I would be so happy to have just one more argument or one night of lecturing her for coming home late. At least, in the end, I would have her here with me. She might be mad or disappointed that she was in trouble, but she would be here.
I don't like speaking in past tense, but that is what I am left with without her here. I don't want to focus on her story ended because the life she lived is so much more than that one moment in time. I've learned to say the word suicide without blinking, flinching, or crying in front of people. It's strange how people use suicide phrases in their daily vocabulary to express feelings or to joke around. I guess I never used to hear it before, I probably used to say them myself more than I know, but now each word of those joking phrases jumps out and takes hold of my breath. Clutching my lungs tightly before slowly allowing me to breathe again.
It's sad and tragic that we must assign a specific month, week, or even one day devoted to suicide awareness and prevention. There has been increasing attention and focus on suicide prevention, especially after a beloved celebrity passed by their own hand. Yet, suicide still seems to be something that is whispered instead of talked about. I am not ashamed that my daughter left the world the way she did. I do not begrudge her for not speaking out and asking for help through a difficult time, even though with every ounce of my being I wish she had. That's the thing... people who are suicidal don't think logically. They are experiencing an internal pain which takes over their thought process and presents only one possible solution. I wish I could have stopped her from feeling sad or alone in that moment of despair. I wish my love would have been strong enough to keep her here. I've had people say it's hard to understand how Amanda could have made such a "selfish" decision, taking away her pain and transferring it to her family and friends. In a moment of despair, you don't always stop to imagine how the world would be darkened without your light or have the ability to picture your life getting better. Whether you are 16 and experiencing a break up with the love of your life or 60 and tired of feeling numb and hollow, the depth of emotional desperation is immeasurable. You truly believe that no one will understand your pain or that no one can make you feel whole again.
This is where I need to you to listen though...
Those voices in your head are WRONG. You WILL make it through. You are NOT going to feel this way forever. This world WOULD be dark and sad without you in it. YES... even perfect strangers will ache at the loss of you. There are so many people who would do anything to help you. To listen to your story and sing a song of hope to your soul. You matter. If you are thinking that suicide is your only way out. It isn't. You say you don't want to burden anyone with your pain, but the pain you would leave them to deal with would be 100 x's worse. Trust me. Stop thinking about the rope, the gun, the pills, the knife, and any other exit strategy you've been planning. Reach out to someone. Anyone. None of us were meant to journey through this world alone. Please keep living. Please... Please stay.
You are loved beyond measure. Live wisely and always choose the right.
Please post a candle in your front window at 8:00pm on September 10th in honor of world suicide prevention day.
No comments:
Post a Comment