This was our first time out on the town together as a family after losing Nathan. We were still finding our way, still feeling it all, but holding onto love, and finding hope in the little moments. #BlueBeeProject #FamilyHealing
Holding Each Other Through the Unthinkable
“Why?” It’s one of the first and hardest questions that comes to mind when someone dies by suicide. That’s how it was for me. In those first moments after my youngest son’s passing, I said it out loud, over and over and over, but no answers came.
Then I caught my husband’s eyes, and something in me shifted. It’s a mother’s secret superpower to step out of herself. My heart instantly moved from my own pain to the hurt in my family. My son was with us at the hospital, consumed by grief over the loss of his baby brother, and there was nothing I could do to take away his pain. So I held him. Somehow, I was given the strength to choose love and hope instead of despair.
We knew more than anything, our family needed to be back together. And so, we got on the road to College Station to pick up our two other sons as soon as we could.
That drive to their school is etched in my memory. My husband didn’t want our son sitting in the back seat alone, so he sat in the back there while I drove, with my son quietly beside me in the front. As I looked through the rearview mirror, I was struck by how instantly our lives had changed. It was the longest and quietest two-hour drive we’d ever taken. We barely spoke. The silence was heavy, almost frightening, but it was what we needed. It gave us a moment to breathe, to begin absorbing the reality of what had just happened, and to gather the strength and the words for what was still ahead.
One of my sons, away at college, didn’t know yet. We still had to tell him.
By the time we got to our son in College Station, I remember calmly breaking the news to him. Even in that calm, I knew this wasn’t something any of us could carry alone. We would have to lean on each other, to be a source of comfort and hope in the middle of so much pain. I still remember the intensity of that moment so clearly. All I could think about was giving my sons and husband the love and reassurance they needed.
Later, I wrote down some of what I said, needing to hold on to those words. I’d like to share a bit of that with you:
“I am so sorry you lost your brother. He loved us all very much and he knew how much you loved him. Nathan was suffering, and he isn’t anymore. This sorrow is now ours to carry, and it’s heavy. It won’t be any lighter tomorrow, or the next day, but we will get through it together. We have each other to lean on, and our faith to lean into. We will be okay.”
In that instant, there was peace and with that came a deep assurance that my baby boy was at rest. I shared that with them too.
That sense of peace grew stronger with each passing day. It helped me stay present and care for our family. We talked, we cried, we prayed, and sometimes we even laughed, holding on tightly to one another. I began to see that our healing was coming through caring for each other and walking this painful road together. That healing was rooted in Love.
At first I thought I was still in shock and that eventually it would fade, and the full weight would crush me. But as the weeks and months passed, I stood firm. I carry profound sadness every day, but I’ve also learned what it means to grieve with Hope.
I still have no answers, and maybe I never will, but I’ve come to trust that I don’t need them. I know grief looks different for everyone, and many struggle in ways I cannot imagine. But for me, the grace I received was this: I didn’t dwell on the “why?” or the “what if.” Amid the pain, I felt pulled to move forward in Faith.
If there’s one thing I would share with others who know this kind of loss on International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day, it’s that even in the deepest sorrow, love can guide us and keep us grounded. We find healing when we turn our attention outward, supporting those we love, letting them support us, and trusting in our faith to guide us forward.
Let’s all continue to reach out and check on each other, to remind one another that we matter, that we are loved, and that we want to see each other’s faces every single day. Together, we can create a world where hope lives on and no one feels alone.
If you or someone you love is struggling, please know help is available. In the U.S., you can dial or text 988 anytime to be connected with support.