some notes from this mornings journal 10 years on.
Looking forward to meeting my sisters killer and to reconciliation......
so... that means... meeting her,
and
she is not here to email, txt or call... to meet and start that process...
Is it enough to process this psychologically.... or in therapy,,,, or a group workshop..... what is the ‘work’ to be done, in private, what in public....
What if there could be something like restorative justice for those that have a loved one who have taken their own life....?
What does restorative justice actually do? Could something similar also work with the relatives, partners, friends of someone who killed themselves
Victim, and murderer.... unbelievable....
I see elements of connection with the Work that Reconnects...... is that a way in.... could that, or another process, be adapted. ( or any of a wide number of tools) ... or is there a new tool.......
Death, and sudden death, of someone we know or know of, and even more so it seems in suicide, brings up questions for of life and death, and mortality... the whole cauldron gets stirred.
Some people as a result, grasp strongly to one thing or another.... to make sense of it. Some suppress or repress feelings, or feel guilt or shame.
Hmmmmm
How about I don’t’ make that , just about others... how about if I bring that home.. to me....
I feel like writing a similar poem to Tich Nat Hahn.. ( Call me by my True names)
I am the one, standing on the bed with the rope around my neck about to jumpAnd... now as, yet another tear rolls down my face .... I wonder ... who is Bex... and where is she ...
I am the health care professional who said “yes I will tell your parents what to look out for when someone is taking Prozac” and then never did,,,,
I am the father who found his daughter dangling with a rope around her neck
I am the gardener who helped the father take the still warm only recently stopped breathing body down
I am the Mother who wailed “how could she, how could she” and fell in to the arms of her son
I am the head of the mental health service who felt the guilt and pain at the result of the cuts in service
I am the expert therapist in Trauma who held some loving kindly space, and saw a way thru and could not provide enough
I am the son and brother who.......
fell apart
I am the friend who gave a key to their house and said, “stay here as long as you need to”
I am the ex lover, shopping for pans, with no kitchen table, not moved into their home who said “yes, come over ” and at the end of the evening followed the flow, for just one more time, to made love .... body, and body...
I am the one who late at night said “it’s not too late, come over” and held strong arms and received wailing and wailing and wailing, and held strong
I am the friend who said “do the grieving now, so you won’t have to do it later”
I am the one who’s clock stopped at 10am on May 15th 205, and wondered why, then got a phone call and realised why
I am the one who opened my heart and held a ‘dance of 5 rhythms for just the family.
I am the 118 people (who replied to an email of support); I am the ones who responded with love, I am the one who responded with anger, I am the one who held the big view, I am the one who blamed,. I am the one who judged, I am the 2 who did not reply
I am the one who challenged the police to not take Bex body away, right away, who spoke with the police inspector and used all my best NLP languaging skills and embedded commands, and pacing and leading, to keep Bex body there for 3 hours ( really I wanted 3 days....at least ...)
I am the policemen who waited 3hours in a car outside the house ‘guarding ‘ the body
I am the one who arranged a cloth over Bex body as it lay on the floor, who put the flowers that my mother had picked form the garden, into a jar, who facilitated my parents to sit nearby ( one seeing the body , one not able to see the body, ) I am the one who lit the 2 candles.
I am the one who stroked Bex hair for the last time, and her face,,, and sat for a couple of hours looking and looking and looking and sensing the subtle shifting of life leaving the body still
I am the one who did the Powa practice, and then met the following weekend with the Lama who taught me ... I am the Lama who no longer met 1 to 1 with people and who said yes, and met and had tea and cake and talked , and said “I will take care of her”
I am the one who received the phone call from Bex ....“I m not doing too well”
I am the one who saw Bex 'inhaling' food, because she hadn't eaten for days and days and had refuesed food. I am the one hwo jumped on a train to London because his sister could not find a safe place to go
I am the one that drove Bex back down the motorway, with ex trying several times to open the car door to jump out....
I am the one that wanted to keep Bex safe,,, I found a specialist trauma therapist, listened to her, I used all my best coaching skills,,, .... I loved her ... I could not stop her... form.. killing herself... I feel that grief again now.. and the flood of tears roll once again down my cheeks
I am the one that after 2 weeks, I noticed a sudden shift in Bex and the atmosphere, to a peace’ it had a breath holding too still peace....
I am the one ......
In response I feel peace, SUCH peace .... right now.
I am the one who read the list of things I love to smell, taste, see, feel, hear ... for the last time
and..... put it on the bed, tied the rope on a hook and around my neck .. and ...
this time it was not enough to keep me from killing myself........
I am the one who jumped... and at this third attempt, ended her breath breathing , heart beating, blood flowing life.... and then slowly by slowly the energy of life dispersed ... bit by bit
And now, 10 years on, I am one of the ones that continue to try to make sense of this all....
I passionately passionately want that there to not be such societal prejudice and judgment and hiding of the reality that people do kill themselves
I would like to be more at peace with this, more accepting of this, more touched by this .....
So, there I have it... still touched. Still feeling.... anger, fear, pan, sadness, numbness, acceptance, peace.
Still waves of that pass thru.
She’s gone .....
And.... in reality .. so much of the time now..... I do not think of her, or feel her presence ( and actually when she was her did not that much then either.....)
I want to make her into someone perfect... she was not .. . and I feel guilt and shame at thinking that.,...
There is WAY to much hiding of this...... suicide..
WHAT IS the deep deep welcome and compassionate response to this .... as it is.... and what action is there to take. What is the next evolutionary step for this, and me in this?That, from the depth of my heart, is the question .... I have right now, today.
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Bex took her life 10 years on from 10:00am May 13th 2005
http://christofferdegraal.blogspot.co.uk/2005/05/rebecca-took-her-life.html
