I’ll bet you didn’t know that I’m a suicide survivor.
But first, I want to share a happy memory of my husband, Pablo. It’s fall, my favorite season. We lived in Metro Denver, CO, and often planned trips to visit some national parks nearby. This trip was to see the Grand Canyon during Thanksgiving week. But first, we stopped at Zion National Park.
The flaming red maples along the Riverside walk at Zion National Park in Utah stirred my desire to remember this day, 11/22/2007. I stopped to take this photo as Pablo continued walking. I wonder now what was going through his mind. What emotions were stirring? Did he enjoy the quiet grandeur as much as I did?
What prompted me to do this now?
Although my Substack publication is about grief, I don’t mention that suicide is a part of my grief. I’ve never written publicly about being a suicide survivor.
My husband, Pablo, took his own life a little over ten years ago in September 2014. I thought the different therapists I saw after his life ended, the suicide survivor group, and the more recent grief recovery coaching would have worked some miracle healing.
It didn’t.
There are no miracles in grief healing.
The healing process has been slow, often hindered by my choices of avoidance, stuffing down emotions, and allowing guilt to invade my thoughts.
But a few painful realizations and aha moments mark my journey stepping up the staircase of grief toward joy.
One of the aha moments was realizing that writing about my relationship with my husband and his suicide might help someone alter the course of their lives positively.
The synchronicities continue
I’m reading these two books because I am also on Substack. Paul Crenshaw’s book, This One Will Hurt You, is for a Book Club with Jeannie Ewing, and I was led to buy A Year to Clear.
I’m reading Stephanie Bennett Vogt’s book because I’m starting another home decluttering. I didn’t realize how much clutter was still in my home and my heart. Today, I start Day 9 in A Year to Clear.
As I start each essay in This One Will Hurt You, I experience an element of fear. Will this one hurt me the most? Or will it make me laugh, like Of Little Faith did? Fear or not, I move forward. Life can be challenging, but we choose how to meet those challenges.
And Pablo still reaches out
Today, he feels nearby.
As I was writing this post, I looked up at the clock on my computer and saw 10:23 a.m. Pablo was born on October 23rd, and this time catches my attention multiple times each week. Today, it feels like a message from the other side: Pablo is with me, telling me it’s okay to share our story.
Does your loved one reach out to you beyond the veil?
I’d love to hear your tender experiences in the comments.