Nurture and nourish

Discussion in 'Parent Emeritus' started by newstart, Jul 11, 2018.

  1. newstart

    newstart Active Member

    The words that Recoveringenabler wrote, nurture and nourish are the magic words for the days, weeks and years to come. Today is 3 weeks since my friend died by suicide. To get anywhere I have to drive right by her house. I noticed her car is gone. It feels horrible to see that her car is gone. Sometimes I stare at her house as I drive by in complete disbelief.
    I am working on the 'whys' and like Recoveringenable said it is a circular mess, it truly is a mess with no answers or reasons the deed it done, there is no undoing just have to go through things in my mind to help me process this huge hurt and complete shock.

    I had such severe PTSD that I made my husband hide the pistol in our home. I am not suicidal and I could not do that to my loved ones but I was so stressed. I don't know if I was freaking out because that is what/how my friend did, it was the weirdest bunch of anxiety emotions and anxiety attacks. My emotions are much better now, I am just very sad and feel very odd. I have been meeting my friends at the pool, we are jogging in the water, praying, laughing saying crazy things and that is what is helping me the most. Talking about my friends suicide is helping too and I have to realize that it has just been 3 weeks.

    My 36 year old daughter still stresses me out with her lies and money problems. OMG she is almost 36 1/2. One nice thing is that I think she is genuinely compassionate about the passing of my friend.

    I just want to mention the huge sense of loss that I feel. I was looking forward to going on cruises, shopping, working out, with my friend. We were so much alike is so many ways. I have friends that I love dearly and I love their differences but it is hard to travel or be with them for a long period of time because of our differences and prefrences. I am cold natured so it is hard for me to travel with my hot natured friends. It is hard for me to travel with someone that has to eat all the time like my husband, drives me crazy.
    When my daughter is not manic she is ok to travel with. While manic she is a total nightmare.

    Moving forward~Thank you all for your support I so appreciate it.
     
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  2. Tanya M

    Tanya M Living with an attitude of gratitude Staff Member

    I'm glad to hear you are doing better. It's never easy to lose a good friend. I still grieve for a couple of really good lifelong friends, they both died of cancer. With my friends I was at least able to say goodbye. It's been 10 years for the one friend and coming up on 2 for the other. I don't think I will ever stop missing them. Like you, they were both great travel companions and we took many trips together.

    Death by suicide leaves so many questions that will never be answered. Some say it's a very selfish act, that the person does not realize the wake of grief they will leave behind. I have found it better not to try and overthink it. It's just tragic plain and simple. I do not know and pray I never will know what it is to be in that state of despair. The only answer I have ever been able to conclude is their pain was just too much for them bear and they felt that suicide was the only way out.

    Perhaps you can do something to honor your friend. Plant a tree in her name or make a donation in her name to a suicide crisis center.

    ((HUGS))
     
  3. recoveringenabler

    recoveringenabler Well-Known Member Staff Member

    newstart, here's an article on grief that may offer you some comfort......
    ***************
    Someone on reddit wrote the following heartfelt plea online:

    “My friend just died. I don’t know what to do.”

    Many people responded with words of encouragement, but one response in particular, by an older gentlemen, really stood out from the rest…

    "Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.

    I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love.

    So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

    As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

    In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out.

    But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

    Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

    Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks."
     
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  4. newstart

    newstart Active Member

    Thank you Tanya, suicide is truly tragic. I too have lost dear friends to cancer and I miss them but I did get to say bye to them and I was glad that they were out of their pain. I will do several things to memorialize my friend. I know grief very well, this is just so stinging and shocking. I looked on Facebook tonight and saw her fiance with another woman already. 3 weeks and another woman? men sure are different than women. My husband said to be glad that he has someone there to comfort him, I think he is right. It has to be horrible to come home alone and deal with all that. I hope you are doing well.
     
  5. newstart

    newstart Active Member

    Thank you recoveringenabler such truth! I have had major grief in my life, I know I will survive. But this suicide has taken the wind out of my sails. I hope things are good with you.