Today I must attend the visitation of my Uncle. The service is tomorrow. I am charged with being by my Aunt’s side to be her support. She has lost her support of forty years. A week ago today, almost to the hour, my Uncle committed suicide. I can not believe that I am saying this, but it happened. It is not a secret. It just is. Life is still going and moving on. Until now I had only told three people. We are survivors. I have a whole new feeling about that word.
We are still in shock and are gathered together. We are all here: Grandparents, Parents, Aunts, Uncles, Brothers, Sisters, Sons, Daughters, Nieces, Nephews, Grandchildren, Friends.
It does not compute in my brain. To be perfectly honest, I am not quite sure what my feelings are beyond utter sadness. Yes, he was depressed, but no one knew the severity had reached this point. He would not talk about it. We are not an out of touch group. There are no answers.
We all need prayers for peace and strength. To feel His presence. Come Holy Spirit.
Go hug your people and tell them you love them. Let them know that they are not alone. You are not alone. Love them and yourself. AHA moment. It is hard to find the AHA moments in times like this, but they are there. Thank the Lord for this life and find the hope in prayer.
The communication needs to start here. Mental illness (is that politically correct?) is not something to hide or be ashamed of. It is an illness that needs to be treated like cancer or anything else. It is more common than most people think.
I would rather be telling you about how I had wonderful rides this weekend. I just hugged the horses and Darcy, breathed them in like oxygen. They can feel it. Man, I am so grateful for them. They are healing.
I will be singing this on repeat today. I know I shared it with y’all yesterday, but I am going to share it again.
“The rising of the sun, burn away my sorrow
Chase away the night, and pull me to tomorrow
Fill in every part of my heart that is hollow”
So very sad to see this news. My father committed suicide when I was 16. This was in the 1960’s and there was no recognition of depression as a mental illness and no therapy or counselling for those left behind. It was devastating. I don’t think my mother ever recovered. You have been in my prayers since your post last week and I will continue to pray for you and your family. At a time like this Faith can be something to hang onto for strength.
Oh, I am so sad to learn this. Thank you so very much for your prayers and kindness. We have been praying together all week. Our bible study had a Thanksgiving dinner last night and my sister and I went. It was good that we did, even if we were exhausted.
I’m so sorry Avery.
Hoping that in the end, this will be something meaningful for your family. To talk, get closer, to say things that may otherwise have been left unsaid. To carry it onward and use it to create strength in someway.
My thoughts with you.
<3<3<3
I, too, have a completely different outlook on the word “survivor”, “survived by”… <3