MAY IS NATIONAL MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH

My son Andrew committed suicide in 2009.Two years after  he died I began to write a little bit each day in his memory and for my sanity. I have shared these writings with family and a few friends. One of my friends suggested doing something with this memoir to support Mental Health Awareness month which is May. So, I decided to post a section of it daily as a blog.  Remember this was written in 2009.

   

           Memorial Day

This coming Monday, May 30, 2009, Memorial Day this year, my son Andrew will be dead for two years. He jumped from a railroad trestle near our home. Andrew suffered from schizophrenia for more than ten years. My handsome, sensitive, athletic, caring, son was tortured by very painful delusions.  In the note he left, he told us he “loved us and he needed a rest”.  As I write this I am sad, and my recently recurring chest tightness is back. 

I find myself in flux. Still, feeling like Andrew is just away, but knowing that like my life before his death, he is gone. Reality is elusive.

Last night Eileen, my youngest daughter, came over. She looked flushed and I was agitated. She was to deliver a birthday present for our neighbor’s new grandson Liam. We were invited to their family party up in Vermont—we live in Pennsylvania. Eileen and I discussed driving up and staying in a hotel, but Rich, her fiance was not free to go. John, my husband was concerned about holiday traffic, and in the end, we all decided to stay home. 

My oldest daughter Marnie had already told us that she was going to the beach with her in-laws for the holiday weekend. I was crushed then and remain crushed now. My grandchildren would not be coming. Angus, three years and Gillis, 4 months are my utterly absorbing, lovely distraction—they stop the bleeding. Marnie knows I am disappointed—somehow she, who is so attentive and giving and loving has managed to really pick the one thing that right now seems to be the most awful—separating herself, and her family from me on this most difficult of weekends. Just yesterday, she questioned (to me) her decision to go-to separate from Eileen, John, and me on this anniversary of Andrew’s death. 

It is such a hard time. I am never going to see Andrew again. Somehow, I am just coming to understand this. I have finally been able to really cry with the terrible sadness of knowing that he is never going to walk in the door again, give me a hug, and tell me that he loves me. People have told me that I will still have a relationship with Andrew, but it will just be different.

There is something about this statement that rings true.  At the same time, it is also mildly infuriating. It is like saying after your house burns down, well you can still walk around in the ashes and remember what the house was like and what you did there and now you have a chance to rebuild it, you might even improve it. Add that bay window you always wanted, or upgrade the kitchen. Hey maybe even add a new room!  More tomorrow