Wow, I've managed to post nothing for a month now. Guess we're heading into the business of Fall. Sometimes I wish our entire year felt a little more balanced, but either way I'm excited for the near future.
I want to talk a little bit about what it's like on this side of losing someone to suicide. I was talking to a friend the other day and said "I just feel like the world started over when I lost my dad. Everything is different." He asked "how so?" And I found myself in a bit of a quandary. I'm not sure that I can explain it sufficiently, but I'll give it a shot.
Going back to the day that I received the news that my father had taken his life, the reaction I had felt much like exactly what you see in movies or television when someone dies and the survivor falls to the floor in utter shock and disbelief. They may completely break down right then, or stare into space for a while and break down later. It's one thing I think the media tends to get right as far as it parallels real life. That was my reaction - my world immediately fell apart. I was momentarily breathless. Everything changed in a profound way. In fact, the moment of taking in that news was something I tried for months to relive and replay in my head over and over and over. That probably sounds a bit odd if you haven't experienced it, but I figured out that it had to do with just how much that moment changed my life. I needed to understand exactly what happened and at the same time accept the reality of it. And that took a long time. It had all just happened too fast. An analogy, for better or worse, that I could use here is that of a horizon. As the sun sets, the horizon is a clear line that separates day from night. Day and night are starkly different. There are qualities of each that the other does not share, though they are related. This was a dividing line for me, something that separated my life into two distinctly different things.
The differences are probably more internal to me than they would be externally to others. My attitudes are different, they are more defined, and I feel a little less easy-going. My opinions have sharpened. My view of the world is probably a little more pessimistic. But my faith and conviction about who God is is stronger than it's ever been. By the same token, my belief in who Satan is is also stronger. The amount of energy I have to put into various things has changed. It's more important to determine my priorities for actions, thoughts and interactions with other people each day. I don't have the same patience I used to have. I'm more cynical. I want things more to the point and with less fluff.
You know, I'm also more concerned with, or at least aware of, whether or not I have a loving influence and Godly witness in the lives of those around me. Why? Because I firmly believe that Jesus Christ is responsible for my life and existence, and for getting me through tragedy, and I have to live for that or there's no point. That may scare some of you, and I think it should. No, I don't really want you to be afraid. I want you to realize that Jesus taught us that if a man (anyone) builds his house on sand, it will fall when the storm comes, but the one who builds his house on the rock will be safe in its foundation (Matthew 7). I have looked death in the face and determined that the only reason to live is Christ. My house fell! It was built on love of music and love of church and love of games and love of family and love of pleasure and love of creativity and love of being loved, and the list goes on. I had to determine whether or not my new foundation would be built of rock on THE rock. That doesn't mean those other things don't exist, but they are the walls and floors and ceilings, not the foundation. Neither does that make me less sinful, but it makes me more aware of my sin. We as God's people spend too much time building and motivating our lives by things that mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme. The only thing that God has said will stand forever is HIS WORD (Matthew 24). Folks, that is Jesus. Read John chapter 1.
Alright, I'll stop preaching! :) I digress...
So at this point, I'm still not sure I have or can sufficiently explain it, but I do know that most survivors of suicide feel this way at some point or another, or all the time even. It really does feel like the world, my world, started over on February 13th, 2010. It will NEVER be the same as it was before that date. It is, unfortunately, the most profound and confounding thing I've ever experienced.
Till next time,
Jeremy
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