How to Survive a Suicide in the Family

My life was pretty routine, I was a normal girl. I was healthy, happy and looking forward to my future. I was excited about the day. I was having dinner with my parents, and introducing my boyfriend to my family for the first time, my birthday was the next day. The sun was shining, it was a perfect August morning.

How could I have known that my ringing phone would change my life, and leave me a ghost of my past? If I had anyway of knowing I would have made a difference, I tell myself daily. I know it is not true, but it helps me to cope, in my own way.

My grandfather was a strong and stubborn man. I loved him so much my heart ached when I was with him, and even worse when I was not with him. I had no idea he was so unhappy in his life. When he decided that morning, to give up and take his own life , he took a peice of me with him.

I am the strong and clear headed member of my family. Even as a child, I had the gift of rational thinking. I remained calm and cool. I held things together. I cleaned obsessively, trying to remove any trace of the tragedy from that morning. I pushed my deep pain away, and I remained a stonewall, devoid of emotions.

When my grandfather committed suicide, my family changed. I changed. A part of my life was over. As badly as I was hurt, I never allowed myself to grieve. I ran from my pain, I got busy, on the go constantly. I knew that if I was emotionally unavailable, I would not be reminded of what I was running from.

Time has passed by, my wounds are still fresh. This is a scar I will always wear, the injury from when he died.I knew someday I would come face to face with my grandfathers death. Nine years later, I realized it was time to heal and cope. I have held onto the hope that it was all a bad dream, and I would wake up and find my family was happy, healthy and together.