Please Stay - You Matter.

Wise Words from Dr. Jack Shephard

2018-03-04T15:20:00.000-05:00

My 16 year old son, his girlfriend, and I have been (slowly) making our way through the "Lost" tv series. Even slower when Netflix decided to take it off their program list (Shame on you, Netflix!). But we found a way to continue, and we only have 3 episodes left! (No spoilers please!)

It's amazing how God sends you reminders of things you need to hear in the most unusual ways. So, in the last episode of "Lost" that we watched last night, tears filled my eyes. Jack Shephard was speaking to John Locke (the best character ever!) about an accident that occurred to Locke's father. Locke blamed himself, was actually punishing himself, and couldn't move on from his horrible mistake. Jack said the following to him - "Punish yourself as much as you want; that's never gonna bring him back. What happened, happened, and you can let it go."

Those words hit me so hard. This has been my greatest struggle since losing Caleb. My part. My mistakes. How I should have listened better to what he wasn't telling me. How I should have asked the questions I was scared to know the answers to. How I should have fought harder and not expected for Caleb to just "get better" or "do better".

What could I have changed? Maybe nothing. Or maybe everything. That's the crappy thing about life. I won't ever know.

Not long ago, I wrote a mom blogger who I have so much respect for, who has also lost her son to suicide. I shared my story and asked her questions. One question I asked her was, "Do you ever really forgive yourself?" I was so grateful that she answered me truthfully with a "no".

Some would say that I have to forgive myself. That I have to "let go", as Dr. Jack Shephard said, of the uncertainties and "what if" questions. I know I need to stop, as far as punishing myself. But also there is a good thing about holding onto those questions. It allows me to share with others the mistakes I made. Maybe, just maybe, to change another parent's thinking. To make them realize that they need to ask those hard questions and not to be scared of the truth, the reality, of their child's mind. Because if I can hold onto those mistakes and share them bravely - no, it won't bring Caleb back, but it may keep many others from going down the same path as he did.

Parents, friends, family members - Listen closely to what is not being said out loud. Do not take for granted the odd behavior and even the rebellion. Be the person who is brave enough to ask, help, and love.

Visiting "that" Place

2018-03-04T15:18:00.000-05:00

Two blog posts in one day! I'm making up for lost time!

This blog post is to share, but I mostly would like it to also be a discussion. So, please comment, below after reading, to share you insight.

Our son, Caleb, took his life by jumping off the Arthur Ravenel Bridge in Charleston, SC, last year. That was a Thursday. My husband and I arrived in Charleston late Thursday night and didn't get the official information about our son's death until the next morning on Friday. At the time, I felt like we needed to stay the weekend in the Charleston area. I think we said it was in case his body was found quickly. Maybe it was a hopeful act that the police were wrong. But I just couldn't leave the town where Caleb's body was lost.

The next day, Saturday, my husband and several of our family members wanted to visit the bridge. See exactly where Caleb jumped, ask questions, maybe try to understand better. The lead detective took them. I chose not to go. I did not want to visit "that" place. It was so fresh, and I didn't think I could emotionally handle it. I didn't want to look out and see the last view Caleb's eyes saw. I didn't want my feet to touch those same steps on the bridge.

It was also because I hated Charleston that weekend. I found it very ironic that Caleb would choose Charleston to take his life. It was popularly known in our house that this was "Mom's favorite place". I was always threatening the boys that I wanted to wake them up early one Saturday morning and go down there, just for the day, to walk around that beautiful city. So, I couldn't understand why Caleb would chose "that" place; my favorite place. That he looked at my favorite view as his last view. Maybe there is something poetic about this, but I just felt anger and hatred towards the city. I knew I would say goodbye to Charleston that weekend and planned to never go back. It was tainted now.

We would later find out that Caleb's decision was more about logistics. He wanted to take his life in a way that caused that least "physical" damage to us and in a way that had the highest outcome of success. He read the articles about others taking their life on that bridge, and it seemed a logical choice. It wasn't about me. It wasn't about Charleston. He probably wasn't thinking of either that day.

So, I still have had no desire to visit Charleston since. Not the town, nor the bridge. And it makes me sad, because it is an amazing city. I do miss it and hate that my heart isn't sure it can go back there.

But our therapist thinks that maybe I should reconsider. He says that this happens to many people who have had a tragedy in a particular location. You cut off that part of the world, saying "I won't ever drive down that road again" or "I can't ever be at that house (or city, or building)." So, you end up cutting off that part of the world, making your world smaller, because you have labeled this place evil or bad. That if you can forgive that place and realize your pain is not about a location, your world doesn't have to be smaller.

So, this is what I'd like to discuss. Not if that idea is right or wrong (I believe he's right), but would like to hear others' experiences in this area. How did you go back? Why was it important? Did it make a difference? How did it change you?

I appreciate sharing your heart!

365 Days

2018-02-08T22:47:00.000-05:00

A year ago this minute, Caleb knew this was his last moments in our house. A year ago this evening, we were saying good night to him. His brother would share a room with him for the last time. A year ago tomorrow morning, I would send my last text to Caleb, reminding him to come to the McDonald's fundraiser after play rehearsal. He would reply "Cool", while at the same time, he was backing his stuff up to drive to Charleston. A year ago tomorrow at approximately 4:00, I would receive a call from a detective that would make my heart stop and never really start beating again normally. A year ago 36 hours from now, Sean and I would sit across from that same detective and hear him say there were witnesses; there's no doubt.

It's amazing how much does not change in 365 days. How the hurt feels the same. How the guilt is still heavy. How many questions are still unanswered. How utterly unnecessary it all feels - "if he had only", "if I had only", "if someone had only".

One year is not a mark I want to cross. It will be the end of being able to think or say things like "A year ago today..."; thinking of what we were doing a "year ago" when Caleb was still here. How simple it was. How we had no idea our lives were about to change forever. How we had no idea how diseased Caleb's mind really was. It will be the end of being able to think, "If I could just go back to this day last year... I know that I could turn everything around." Maybe I'm fooling myself, but somehow my pretend time machine gives me pretend hope.

Tomorrow there will be no more "a year ago" moments in regards to memories with Caleb. That breaks my heart. The year has been too long. The year has been too short. Caleb was just here, sitting in the living room chair across from me, focusing on his phone more than "being present" with the family. He was just talking excitedly in the kitchen about the next phase with the theatre, contemplating his next part, and giving me all the theatre gossip. He was just there in his bed in the morning, refusing to get up the 2nd or 3rd time I woke him, with me feeling exasperated on how I should make him get up. He was just in my car, sitting next to me, talking nonstop while we traveled to our latest college tour or theatre show.

So, we survived one year. But that's all it feels like I've been doing - surviving. I know that I need to live again. And I will. It's time to make peace and smile more than hurt. This world is just not the same without you, Caleb. My life is just not the same without you, Caleb.

But. But. It is so much better for it. I am so much of a better person because you lived in my home for 17 years. I will be so much of a better person because you've lived in my heart this past year and will continue to live there until my last day on Earth. Right before I get to hug you again.

Thank you for making me a mom - your Mom. And thank you for every minute, every day, every year with and without you.