I initially went into this with the thought that I would be able to write a little bit about every night, since each one was so interesting, but I keep coming back to only three nights. After losing my friend Andy to suicide in August, I had a lot of questions about how to make sense of it all. I debated whether coming to the suicide night would be of much help, or if it was just too soon after the loss to be able to really let everything sink in. I had already been signed up for this class before he died, and before him, I had never lost anyone to suicide. My thoughts surrounding it were very one-sided. I always told people that dying by suicide was a cop-out or it meant that you couldn’t face the challenges of life and suffering like every other human being. I was actually pretty rude about it, and definitely being too defensive to be someone that could offer help. This class and the loss of my friend have changed my view completely.
I got a call at 2AM from my friend Stephanie, and I didn’t answer the phone because I figured it was just asking me to come and hang out. They left a voicemail but I never listened to it. The next morning at 8AM when I had just arrived at work, my friend called again. This was unlike her to call in the morning so I answered. She told me the news and I was in disbelief. Andy was the nicest guy, very well known in the community, had hundreds and hundreds of friends, remembered everyone by name, went out of his way to be nice to everyone, and always had a smile. It was such completely shocking news that I was waiting for someone to say “just kidding.” I gathered myself and went home from work, the start of taking off three days because I could barely even get myself out of bed. The first day, I met with my friend Anne, who was one of his best friends. We got flowers, spent the day talking about him and sharing stories, and doing lots and lots of crying. A week later was his memorial, and it was amazing to see over a thousand people crowing the block of 20th street between J and K, in front of his office. It was bittersweet to see lots of friends who I had lost touch with, and who I now keep very close because the glaring realization of how short life is was made apparent that night.
The next month, for some closure and for renewing a bit of my sanity, I did the “Chalk-it-Up” piece sponsored by his employer in memoriam of Andy. The piece drew a huge crowd of his friends and family, and we all sort of accepted the impermanence of the chalk as a metaphor for life. It rained two days later.
Another part of the suicide night that crept up from the filing cabinet of my brain was the death of my uncle Mikey. He passed away last year from complications with alcoholism and drug abuse. It was the middle of December, in a record-low temperature week, and he had stopped eating. A couple weeks later he became so weak that he collapsed in his apartment and he froze to death. At first, I thought, “Oh my god, why has nobody in my family ever said he was this bad?” And my second thought was that he probably was far beyond the reach of any help. I never considered this to be a form of suicide, but then when we had that class, it became obvious. He was too weak and depressed to take any measures to take his life beyond starvation. He just stopped eating instead of putting a gun to his head like Andy did. The death of my uncle is almost even more depressing than Andy’s, because he experienced very real suffering before his death, whereas Andy just ended everything quickly.
I could barely keep it together on suicide night, but I am so glad I did. Now if I encounter someone who seems like they are having those thoughts, I can share with them what I have learned about how to speak to them, instead of just closing off and saying they are copping out. People who are close to suicide really need the help and comfort of someone who loves them, because often they just don’t feel loved. The loss of Andy and Mikey is incredibly sad and difficult, but I think that through understanding their pain that I now have a better idea of the thought process of someone who is thinking of taking their life.
The other two nights were on Grief. I didn’t think that these two nights would hit me as hard as they did, but it made me think about the losses in my family, and that EVERY single death of someone close to me has been tragic. There have been drownings, seizures during sleep that caused choking, stroke, suicide, drug overdose, and heart attack. Realizing that I had not been around any terminally ill loved ones made me really sad. It made me realize a lot of things about myself, how I hang on tightly to the people I care about, and that it’s incredibly hard for me to get close to them in the first place. I also realized that my family is very closed-mouthed when it comes to grieving, and we don’t really show our emotions or talk about feelings or even say “I love you” very often. The most recent loss of my uncle was sort of weird because I found myself trying so hard not to cry at his funeral. It was only later, when I was home by myself, that I was able to let it all out. I thought, “how tragic” about his death and “how pathetic” that I didn’t even want my own family seeing me cry at his funeral. I didn’t want to go through life hiding my very real and very painful emotions about death. I feel like when I experienced the loss of Andy, that my talents in grieving were brushed up a bit. I felt ease in grieving, possibly because I was around my friends who knew him, who weren’t going to judge my grieving. I know it is even silly to say the words “judge my grieving” but that is the only way I can describe the feeling of wanting to hide my emotions.
Since attending the grief nights, I feel like I am becoming more open with myself and with other people when talking about the loss of a loved one. Sometimes I might become even a little bit too inquisitive, asking questions and being caring, but it’s because I am genuinely interested and I want people to talk about it if they are comfortable.
The grief night also helped me understand a past relationship I had, where my boyfriend’s mom passed away when he was 20 when he was on a mission for his church in Australia. He hadn’t seen his mom in two years, and his family lied to him and never revealed that she was getting sick until it was too late. By the time she passed away, he was already on his flight back to Sacramento. I found that our relationship was partially suffering due to his attachment towards me to fill a motherly role. It was interesting to find how young people grieve, and that as they grow older, they will have more questions to ask as their understanding and interest of the situation grows.
I think that this class has really helped me to understand death on a deeper level, and it has definitely made my interest in death and dying greater. I would hope to volunteer at a hospice some day, or at the very least be a shoulder to lean on when someone is having a hard time.
