Four Years On
September is a hard month. Harder than most. It's the anniversary of his death and exactly one week later is his birthday. September is also Suicide Awareness and Prevention month. There are such heightened emotions for me in September. Most of the time I can't even process what it is I'm feeling because they change like Missouri weather. I don't know what I feel from one moment to the next. There is great sadness, at times pride, no matter the circumstances of his death he served his country and his family proudly and selflessly and no one can take that away. From him, from his family, from the country. I'm angry at times because he is not here for the kids who love him and don't deserve the hand they have been dealt. His illness was not terminal. Now, because I witnessed his suicide I have the same condition and have to reassure my kids that I won't also die leaving them alone in the world. It wasn't just his death that stole their security but the feeling that it could happen again. The fact that they have to even consider this makes me angry. Then for them to realize it's not terminal, their dad didn't HAVE to die breaks my heart all over again. It's been a while since my kids have asked and I hope that they know it's going to take much more than PTSD to take me out of their lives. I have worked hard for them, for their future and their security. I have done just about every sort of therapy and treatment offered. I'm determined to make the most of this. I wish he had the same motivation but I'm learning to let that go. At the end of the day it is what it is. I can't change the past, only what I do now.
Four years have past, I realize now how much we have all changed. The kids have grown, matured, one is an adult now. They are not broken. They are strong, healthy, happy, hilarious, beautiful people. They are so resilient. I get my strength from them. Afterall, they have lost the most in the situation. If they can move forward and grow, learn, smile then I can too.
Everything about who I am is different than in 2013. Not all bad, actually more for the better in most areas. I have aged so much though. My appearance is so much different I can hardly recognize myself. The lines on my face, the stress has been so great. I am about 20 pounds heavier and I am less concerned with it than in the past. Superficial issues are gone with the wind. It's not that I've given up on myself. It's that I've given up on the idea that my appearance equals my self worth. I know my value. I know my strength and it seems less of a priority to have validation. My focus has shifted to helping my family and the families of other at risk service members and survivors of similar tragedy.
The biggest change I have noticed about myself is my empathy, it's always been a big part of what makes me unique but now it drives me. I am more aware of others. How the feel, how they tick. I notice everything. I make time to ask others if they are okay. I care, genuinely of others. Strangers. People who don't have a clue who I am. I'm not only helping others but I'm teaching my kids to be empathetic, caring, aware also. Our actions teach kids more than our words ever will. I'm modeling the kind of behavior I want to instill in them and it actually works.
Every day I meet new people with different stories and they inadvertently teach me new things about myself and the struggle. I don't believe I meet them by coincidence. I treat every person put on my path as if God sent them directly to me. Not to help them, but to teach me, to help me with achieving whatever he's put me here to complete. In the moment I am consoling and encouraging them but the interaction with each individual is unique and I gain new tools to help the next. It's a gift.
It's hard to believe four years have passed without him. Or that the world keeps spinning in his absence. There was a time in my life that I thought I couldn't live without him. Not figuratively, literally. I know now I was wrong. That makes me proud at times and profoundly sad at others. I am empowered knowing I am independent and I can not only survive but thrive alone. As a mom and individual. I would have never had than sense of pride had he not took his life. I'd never have to test that fear that lingered in the back of my mind.
There are times now when I realize I have lived through most people's worst nightmare. I can see it on the faces of others who ask my history. I avoid sharing if it's unnecessary. Not because I am ashamed, or try to block it out but because it truly does make people, even if for a moment... take a walk in my shoes, they are imagining if their spouse did the same and left them to live their biggest fear. It leaves them bewildered, confused and most of the time they can't even form coherent sentences. I share only when it is in the context of the conversation.
I've learned so much. Most of the lessons are things no one should have to process. What I am sure of is that God put me right here and this is part of a bigger picture, part of my job in this life. I'm not being punished, I'm not cursed, my faith in Him has grown stronger where others have lost faith completely. Four years is a blink of an eye in the span of a lifetime. Although, I can assure you there were minutes and days in the past four years that have felt eternal.
I am stronger and wiser now. I didn't want it to happen. I am not at fault for what happened but it most certainly did occur and it was profound, devastating, life altering. I will not pass the opportunity for it to make me a better person. I'm a firm believer that shit happens in life that is out of our control. All we can do is react and evolve in its wake. You cannot dwell on it, or blame it for everything that happens afterward. You only hold yourself back in doing so. You must take time to process the event, to understand it and to accept it. But never use it as a weapon.
Who knows how I will feel four years from now, or if I will even agree with what I feel in this moment? I guess that's the benefit of journaling and blogging about my experiences. I can look back on how far I've come. I can laugh at myself, I can appreciate how I felt even if I have no recollection in time.
I miss him. I am sad that he's not here. I'm confident that I can do this, that I am strong. At times I wish I didn't have to constantly test this. Five years ago I could have told you exactly how the rest of my life would go. I would have sworn to it emphatically. No one could have convinced me otherwise. I would have looked you straight in the eye and said "you are wrong" and I would have meant it.
Now I know life is unpredictable. There is no way to know. I don't spend much time worrying about the unknown. I appreciate all that I have and the moment I am in. I try to be mindful and present. That's all I can do.
Four years on this is what I know:
He didn't abandon us, he was sick and the illness caused his suicide. Nothing we did caused it. There was nothing I could have done to change it.
I did survive and I will continue to do so. I feel joy and happiness although he is not here and that's okay.
My kids are healthy and strong and are not destined for pain and suffering because of their dad's suicide. It is possible that they will have problems later in life because of it but my job right now is to make sure they feel safe, they also understand their fathers death is not their fault and they are loved so much. If they do experience issues in life I will support them and guide them to the best of my ability.
Life goes on. Sometimes that will be beautiful and some days this will be overwhelmingly debilitating but this is grief and it is normal.
I am supported by many. I am not alone in this and I have the love and respect of others while I take my time navigating through new feelings and experiences.
I'm alive. I can feel the sun on my face and the breeze in my hair. My story is far from over and I will make good choices on what I can control.
Life.Is.Beautiful
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