The Immediate Aftermath: God-Given Roles in Tragedy

How do we do it? I often told myself I just simply wouldn’t survive losing a mother, a father, or a sibling way too soon. “I would just die” were often the words that came out of my mouth when I would tell my brother or my sisters to be careful, or tell my parents before a long road trip they would take without me. I wish I could tell you exactly how, but SOMEHOW you do survive. You pick up the phone you dropped after the most devastating news of your life, you walk yourself from your bedroom to the living room, from the living room to the kitchen, and with pure blind strength you are somehow in the passenger seat taking the longest ride of your life to meet your family. The 45 minute drive to Madison – blurry, cloudy, unsure of my disorganized thoughts. What just happened? Did my brother really take his life? I just couldn’t fathom this was reality. I didn’t accept it was reality until I saw the faces of my family. The shock of it all doesn’t actually leave. I still have moments almost on a daily where I find myself wanting to text my brother, wanting to share of something joyous that happened, wanting to inform him of my newest adventure, or to get his advice or reassurance on a decision.

My mom and dad’s kitchen table became our first meeting place and where our healing journey would begin. The need to all be together was so great that I actually felt thanks in a moment of complete despair, thanking God that I didn’t have to drive any further than 45 minutes to embrace them. But we were missing Aussie, he was always there to wrap his arms around this family during grief but now he wasn’t. How could we grieve together if we are missing Aussie? The day(s) were filled with holding each other, unsynchronized breakdowns, moments of wailing, of unanswered questions, disbelief and blank stares. The days turned into hours of wakefulness and the shock would set in all over again after your eyes were so puffy and the crying was only ugly sounds coming from our mouths, our eyes dried of tears. The silence hurt too much so we did our best to fill it with stories and sharing text messages, and……planning. Yes, we had to plan and that is something nothing can prepare you for in a situation such as this.

What was quickly confirmed to us throughout the next 6 days was that my brother may have been introverted, but his love for you was so evident in his ability to text you remarkable wisdom and we learned of acts of kindness unwitnessed. We were making friends with who we would call strangers, as they carefully approached our family. Nobody, not one person knows exactly what to say to a family during times of loss. Maybe it was the chaos of having to plan, but I am amazed by the strength my family had when we were together. We may not have done it all right but we did it together and with grace. And those people we thought were strangers; not anymore. Anyone that Aussie talked to or touched through is words we welcomed into our pain and we were transparent with our mourning. My parents home did not stay silent for long. We learned more and more about the past year and months of my brother’s life. He was so close to his family, but he shared parts of himself with others that he may not have shared with us. He had an uncanny ability to sway his heart in your direction and offer up hope if he saw you needed it. In fact, we learned that he was providing free work to those who couldn’t afford it, and plowing neighbors driveways in the middle of a Minnesota winter. He took immense pride in helping others and making others feel good. A suicide survivors heart will always trump the crisis moment. I have never and will never doubt this statement.

The first night the planning started. It wasn’t our decision, it was the motions of our culture. Our loss was another loss in a world full of them, but I am promise you a suicide loss is one that is evidently met with unsettledness, with no real rule book or preparedness to detangle complicated emotions. As the pastor sat in my dad’s chair in our family room we all gathered at his feet on the floor. The room was packed with not only our immediate family, but everyone else we welcomed into our story. It may have been our Aussie, our closest love, but in that moment I think we knew that he was just as important to the others holding our hands and sharing in our suffering. We were not about to take that away from them. They loved him as we did. Aus would never have turned anyone away, and even though we would have our moments of togetherness alone now was not the time. A death by suicide is often met with shame or wanting to conceal the crisis, but his life was far too important to mask with the ideas of what onlookers would deem appropriate. Plain and simple, stigma does not exist when God is in the picture.

We had been given tasks after that, given a schedule and structure to an unbearable timeline. I thrive off of structure, but for the first time in my life I was unsure if I could take the reigns on this one for my family. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t have to. My mom diligently pulled emotions and stories and memories out of everyone who sat across from her. Looking so delicate with her blonde curls coming out of her hats she wore each day, she spoke with resolve and a loving fervor that drew people closer to us. She was our matriarch and her love for her son created a thick fog of warmth around the kitchen table; people became stuck in it, not wanting to leave for it was their comfort. My daddy sat quietly, often having to leave the room to cry in his bedroom. He allowed the men in the room to feel comfortable enough to cry and share feelings not yet expressed. My sister Cams rubbed the backs of the men who would visit, and braid the hair of the woman sharing their stories, along with ensuring that all the kids got fed with the food that so generously showed up day after day. My baby sister Tia shared of her close bond with my brother; one that she kept secret and sacred until she felt compelled to share of his words of affirmation that would later turn into magnets for others to bring home with them after his funeral. Then as the oldest of the family, I would help navigate and guide through my prayer time the exact words my brother would want said about him. He looked to me for this type of guidance and there was no way I was going to let him down nor was I going to let the world tell me how I should feel about his circumstances and clouded last decisions. He was going to be seen for who God made him to be, and he was nothing but a blessing to this family and no one was going to lessen his character. This sister was and is going to defend his heart, and I will continue to fight against the gray areas where this world wants to place suicide loss.