Summary

I was faced with the suicide of our only son when he was 16. This event almost destroyed me. I was terribly depressed and felt like giving up- but with the help of a psychotherapist, I eventually came to grips with this tragedy.

Background

But I get ahead of myself. . . When my younger two children were going into sixth grade, I didn’t feel that the school they attended was able to meet the kids’ needs, so I made the decision to teach them at home. I was careful, though, as I did not want to encounter problems with the authorities, so I contacted the ACLU for support in what I was doing. They were a great help, and the school system gave us their blessing.

This was one of my favorite activities and one of the happiest time of my life. We had four glorious years until the kids were ready for high school. At that point they re-entered the school system. My daughter was in public school, but I chose a private school for my son, as his needs were more problematic.

Our son Jeffrey, taken shortly before his suicide and my consequent depression.

The event unfolds

In his third year, he had no afternoon classes, so I drove him home early. He wanted to watch TV, but I told him that I was entertaining a friend and needed to use the TV room.

After a couple of hours, I was ready to drive to town to pick up my daughter from the school bus. My son was on the couch reading, and I invited him to go with me. He declined and then told me that he was “five minutes from killing himself, and I didn’t even know it.” I certainly didn’t think that his statement about suicide was serious, but I suggested again that he go with me, so that he and I could talk. He again declined; and I was worried about being late for my daughter, so I left.

And that was a huge mistake! If only I could have made a different choice! How many times have I beat myself up for not believing my son, for not taking him seriously. I never dreamed that his words were serious!

When we got home, my daughter saw him first. I followed her eyes, and that’s when I saw my son hanging lifeless from a tree in our backyard. It was obvious that he had tried to commit suicide.

At that moment, there was no other adult in sight. I had to be in charge. I told Rachel to dial 911, and I started doing CPR. Within a few minutes, Jamie came home from work, the emergency vehicles trailing right behind him.

Hospitalization for Suicide

My son Jeffrey was suddenly out of our hands. A helicopter flew him to the Children’s Hospital in Washington, DC. When he arrived, he was connected to life support in the ICU. The doctor told us that the medications they had used so far were too strong for Jeffrey’s heart. They would not be effective long-term.

Maria, our eldest daughter, and her boyfriend flew in from Florida, where they went to school. Jamie’s father came in from New York. We all slept as well as we could on the chairs and couches in the waiting room.

We say goodbye

Late the next day the doctor came to speak to us again, suggesting, as night was approaching, that we consider taking Jeffrey off life support. “It is only a matter of time before it will no longer be able to fulfill its function.”

We took his advice. We all gathered around Jeffrey’s bed, holding hands, tears running down our cheeks. One by one we said goodbye, and we disconnected the life support.

I managed to put myself on autopilot. We did what we needed to do; Jamie and I went to the morgue to identify Jeffrey’s body. Then we visited Charlie, our minister, to make arrangements for the funeral and we contacted a local funeral home.

The funeral

The ceremony was held on a cold day in mid-March. Wakefield School sent a busload of students to attend. The minister told a lovely story about a caterpillar crawling across a Persian rug of many colors. Sometimes he was sad (blue), sometimes angry (red), or envious (green). But he couldn’t make sense of the colors, but his perspective improved when he became a butterfly and flew over the oriental rug and saw the gorgeous pattern woven into it.

Addressing his Classmates About His Suicide

Three days later I visited Wakefield School and told the students gathered there that Jeffrey had made a terrible mistake. I strongly believed that. As I struggled to find my way through the awful grief, I was also faced with my guilt and my depression. Why hadn’t I just stayed home? That decision, that lack of judgment, many times had I desperately tried to change them in my mind.

Facing Depression

I slowly realized that I could not by myself fight the terrible depression that threatened to overcome me. I had always told myself that I would die, if one of my children died. And that thought haunted me. Faced with this situation, I wanted nothing more than to give up, to stop trying, to give in to the grief. Had I had only the one child, that would have been my answer. I would be able to escape the awful grief!

But I still had two girls who were alive, one of them still at home. She and her brother were the ones I had home schooled, and we three had been very close. If I loved Rachel, how could I burden her with my death on top of her brother’s? I loved her too much to do that to her, as I had no idea how she would handle all that grief.

Finding help

I knew that I needed help, since I was not at all sure how much time I would have before the terrible grief would drag me down beyond recall.

I checked around until I found a psychotherapist who was available, and I started counseling with her. I discovered that there was no blame in therapy, which felt like a gift. I found that it was a relief to talk about Jeffrey without experiencing any judgment, for I was already judging myself harshly.

Therapy was a slow process, for the grief was very deep. At the same time we started a small grief group at church with our beloved minister Charlie. There, we were surrounded by people who were grieving, which made us comfortable enough that we could share our daily struggles with the other members.

Following the Suicide, Life Continues

At home we made a few small changes to try to make Jeffrey’s absence less obvious. We ate meals in the sun room, for instance, instead of around the dining room table. And we invited our friend Pat to join us at dinner time. Her family had moved; Pat had been left behind to sell their house so she was alone and available to join us.

Rachel had school on her birthday, so I went on to work. Once there I talked to a friend, who suggested that the birthday must be a happy occasion. I said “No . . . because it was Rachel’s first birthday without Jeffrey, and for the first time she was the same age as Jeffrey.” Once the friend heard that, she sent Rachel a beautiful “sweet sixteen” bouquet. That evening we celebrated in the park instead of at home. And afterward, Rachel left us and went to a basketball game with her friends.

A year later Rachel went to college, which was fortunately not too far from home, so that we did not feel that we had lost her. I remember that we drove down to see her one time, not realizing that she had had a fight with her boyfriend. Upset as she was, she was in bed with the blinds drawn. Poor Rachel! After my recent loss, I reacted badly when I saw her. I hurriedly put the blinds up and yanked her out of bed. As unreasonable as I was, I believe that Rachel understood perfectly. Not only did she miss Jeffrey herself, but she was well aware of my loss.

Before Rachel left home, there were a great many Sundays when Rachel and I (who never fought) would argue about something stupid like who had lost more. Then we would dissolve into tears. It was a terrible time that seemed to go on forever.

Depression After Suicide

Published by Susan on August 10, 2021August 10, 2021