Conference turris::womannotes-v2

    Awhile back, I went to a funeral of a man I knew at  Science of
    Mind center.  The poem that was read for him helped me not only
    see his passing, but also my beloved brothers.  
    -----------------------------------------------
    
    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there, I do not sleep
    
    I am a thousand winds that blow
    I am the diamond's gilt on snow.
    
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
    I am the gentle autumn's rain.
    
    When you awaken in the morning's hush,
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    
    do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there, I did not die.
    
    author unkown---

Seeing the name Charlotte just brought back a lot of memories of
my Charlotte who died 13 years ago. I understand that she was in
pain when she died but now, she's at peace. I was angry because
she left me feeling abandoned and not-whole; now I feel that it
was all part of life's miracle.

Cal

    I wish there was a way that dealing with death was not painful.
   
     I have lost three family members in the last five weeks, one of
    which was my mother on December 29th.  The other two were her sisters.
    Mom died suddenly of cardiac arrest, as did her sisters.  My brother,
    whom she lived with in Florida, will bring her ashes back in the
    spring.  I had a memorial service for her as many family members
    live here as well as friends and I needed something so I could deal
    with her death.  The one thing I told the minister was I wanted the
    service and eulogy to be a celebration of her life.  It was.
    As the minister said "We are here to celebrate Myrtle's life, not
    mourn her death".  It's the way Mom would have wanted it...not long
    and drawn out or sad and weepy...just fond memories of her.
    
    I know she will no longer suffer illness and her blindness will
    not exist.....I have very fond memories of all three and will cherish
    them forever.  All of them were very fond of playing canasta, so
    when Mom is laid to rest, I'm "sending along" a couple of decks
    of cards!
    
    P.
    

    
    	My mother's name was Charlotte, and, she was one who believed
    in the supposed nobility of self sacrifice, vs self realization. 
    She's also no longer alive, having paid the ultimate price for her
    non-acceptance of her responsibility_of_self, or whatever. Sure
    it's my belief that she could have stopped smoking at any point in
    time. But, like the Charlotte in .0, there was no where for her
    to go to get support she needed to do the growing and changing she
    needed to do. Her childhood did not afford her this opportunity,
    neither did her marriage to my father, and certainly, neither
    did my existance. My Mom was one of those who lived their whole lives 
    fighting the emptyness inside, never quite filling it, because no one 
    ever assured her where to look; where it's solution lies and that it's
    OK to pursue it. In fact, she was likely taught the exact opposite; 
    "Self fulfillment lies in ceaseless, dedicated service to all_others!" 
    Or some such non-sense.
    
    	(Gee, I've been told that "I'm all potential" before...)
    
    	Joe Jas
                                      

    re: 374.1
    
    Several years ago (actually about 10) I heard this poem during a
    eulogy on a program I was watching.  I moved me so much that I spent
    long hours trying to obtain a copy of it.  I couldn't remember the
    words exactly and since the author was unknown, I could not find
    it in the library.  I have thought about this poem many times during
    periods of loss.  Especially at the passing of my grandson in December
    1987.  It was a tragic loss, as is with all small children.  He
    was in a fire at his home and died due to cardiac arrest from smoke
    inhalation.  He was on life support for several days, but he never
    regained consciousness.
    
    Several times at his bedside, I tried desperately to find the way
    to get a message to him, to let him know how much he is loved.  
    So many times (especially when little children die) 
    there are many things left unsaid.  We seem to regret a scolding
    we gave them and wonder if we could have spent just a few more spare
    moments with them.  I wondered if maybe I could have hugged him
    or give him a quick kiss but missed the opportunity because I was
    busy.  A three year old is not one to sit still long but a few stolen
    moments would have meant so much now. -NOW-, that small word haunts
    me.  We really never know for sure when it will be too late. 
    
    There is great comfort to know that even though I can not see him,
    I can think of him as the poem says.  Of being ALIVE in all things
    around me and not in that small, tiny grave.  I know he would want
    me to think of him in this way.  
    
    Louise
          

    
    
    To all of you who have shared your losses and grief, I feel the
    strong urge to reach out and just hold your hands for a few
    moments and let you know that you were heard.  I have come to
    look at birth and death as a continuing cycle and one in which
    we continue to live and grow in, no matter what point of the
    cycle we are at.  What looks like death to us is birth on the
    other side of the veil; what looks like birth to us is death
    on the other side of the veil.  I also believe that we can
    continue our relationships with those who have left the physical
    body, though the communication process will be a bit different
    because most of us won't be able to see them or hear them in the
    same way as we're used to.  But perhaps we will be able to *feel*
    their presence and love with us at times, and by sending out 
    thoughts and love and encouragement to them will assist in their
    continuing journeys much more than you may ever realize.
    
    Carole

    Warning: This note contains strong emotional material, including my 
    personal feelings about the deaths of several close family members. I
    have mixed feelings about entering it here, partly because of my
    own feelings, but primarily because it may be overwhelming for some
    readers.                                              
                                                          
    If you are not comfortable dealing with emotional discussions of death,
    I suggest you hit NEXT UNSEEN and move on. - Bruce. 

    We live next door to an old cemetery. The oldest graves go back to the 
    mid-1700s. In those days, and until about 100 years ago, early death 
    was common and even expected. Measles, cholera, influenza, small pox, 
    and other diseases that we rarely see today were killers then. 

    Numerous children are buried next door. Many families had three or 
    four children who died during childhood. One family plot records the 
    death of three different children, ages 4, 7, and 12, within a month 
    of each other, presumably from some passing, unnamed epidemic. One 
    reason for large families was the hope that one or more of the 
    children would live until adulthood. 

    Not everybody died young. There are many gravestones of those who 
    lived into their 70s, 80s, or 90s. But some adults died early, too; 
    many men are buried alongside the two or three wives whom they 
    outlived.

    Today we think of early death as an affront against the natural order 
    of things. When we hear of a child's or young person's death, it seems 
    like an obscenity; something that is not supposed to happen.

    I had little personal contact with death until about 15 years ago. 
    Then my father, who had been in good health, died after a short 
    illness. Two years later my mother fell asleep smoking and died of 
    smoke inhalation from the resulting fire; I learned about it over the 
    phone. (One more reason to quit smoking.) 

    Much worse than either of these was the sudden death a year later of 
    our 5 year old son. He became ill and died within a few hours from a 
    rare type of pneumonia. It was several years before I could be around 
    5-year olds without choking up. Today he would be 17 or 18, and 
    graduating from high school, but he forever remains a little boy in  my
    thoughts.

    Several weeks after our son's death I visited my 96-year old 
    grandfather. I remember feeling angry at him for living so long when 
    my son died so young. It was the last time I saw him, because he died 
    a few months after that. But he was familiar with death, too. In the 
    course of his long life he outlived his parents and grandparents, 5 or 
    6 brothers and sisters, two wives, a daughter, two great-great 
    children (my brother also lost a son, age 4 months, from a heart 
    defect), and literally dozens of friends and associates.

    My grandfather died a few months after that. I also remember talking 
    to my great-aunt, who was about 92 at the time. She was a warm and 
    gentle person, and a survivor, and she said to me, "If you live long 
    enough, you will bury a lot of people." She died a few months later.

    Since then (10 years or so) there have been other family deaths, but 
    not in such rapid succession, and not members I have been particularly 
    close to. 

    I am lucky because my best friend is my wife, and we have two 
    marvelous daughters in their 20s. My family has always been more
    important than my job (which has always been the least painless way to 
    provide sufficient money). Life has its difficulties, but I consider
    myself a happy person, and I'm sure that most people who know  me would
    also consider me happy. 

    In spite of medical science and our sanitized denial, death remains a 
    part of life. Death today is often prolonged and drawn out, so that 
    the survivors (and the dying member) go through what may be several 
    weeks or even months of hospitalization. We were spared that (and 
    associated expenses). But the deaths of many of my family members was 
    totally unexpected and fast (too fast), and that has made me realize 
    how ephemeral and fragile life is, and how it can snatched away in a 
    moment. This has made every farewell and goodbye kiss more poignant 
    and meaningful.

    Despite occasional thoughts to the contrary, I want to continue  living
    for the foreseeable future. I look upon death (my death) as  surcease,
    the end of everything: suffering and pain, and joy, love and 
    happiness. I have no expectations or hope of a life after death. When 
    I die, my existence ceases, and I will live on only in the memories of 
    others, and does not last very long.

    Life is for the living. My grandfather and great-aunt understood that 
    very well. They left life knowing that death is just another facet of 
    life, like a graduation, marriage, or job change. Death comes to all, 
    and the living go on living as before, more or less imperfectly. I 
    hope before I die, at whatever age, I reach that level of 
    understanding.

    Bruce

    re (-.1)
    My mother says "death comes in three's" ... guess she also says
    that about other 'events'...but those aren't relevant here.
    She has survived several occurances of the 3's...not all
    immediate family--some cousins, in-laws, etc...but she has
    learned to be a survivor.  By the time she was 25 she had lost
    her father, a brother, and one of her sons.  By 45 another son,
    a stepfather, and her husband.  Soon thereafter her mother, and
    too many aunts/uncles, etc to count.  And how did she deal with
    this...acceptance...as has been said before.  She has a great
    faith in a life hereafter, and by holding onto that, and just
    'persevering' has coped with all life's events--including death--
    
    Not an easy task.  I think we all deal with death in our own
    fashion.  Much has been written on the subject.  Some common
    occurances include numbness, denial, anger, grief, then acceptance.
    But we all learn to handle the situations as they arise, in whatever
    fashion possible at the time.  
    
    Unfortunately, as the base author notes, all too often its not
    until death that we realize what we have lost, and regret not
    speaking our feelings sooner.  
    
    deb
    

    This note has brought tears to my eyes tonite. My beloved grandmother
    died just before Thanksgiving at the age of almost 102. Notes
    like this still bring out the tears for me. Thankyou to all of
    you who wrote so far.
    
    Bonnie

    Death and life [ to reverse the phrasing by which we so
    often speak of things .. ] are intertwined so inextricably that
    we rarely see clearly connections until we cast back over our
    own history.  My mother died the Tuesday before this past
    thanksgiving and we celebrated her funeral mass the following
    Saturday.
    
    In presiding at the mass, and preaching the homily, I was never
    more relaxed in such a liturgical setting.  My sense of life and
    death was intense.  While reflecting on scripture and remembering
    poignant times in our family, in preparing my homily, I noted
    that there was an curious life cycle reoccurring now.  In 1986,
    my father died just after he and mother celebrated their 50th
    wedding anniversary.  A week after he died, my nephew was married
    in California and our whole family was united in a celebration of
    life.
    
    In October of '88, my niece [ my sister's daughter ] was married
    in California and my mother was there to celebrate.  A month later,
    she died and we reunited again to celebrate life and death.
    
    The following Saturday after my mother's funeral, I presided at
    a wedding for a couple who I had helped prepare their ceremony.
    The common bond here was that in both the funeral and wedding, the
    gospel text was the same ....   John 21:18.  
    " ...  When you grow old, someone else will tie a belt around you
    and take you where you would rather not go. "
    
    
    
    Death and life are what brings meaning to life.
    
    

I want to share two perspectives of death; my mother and mine of
her death from terminal cancer.

Back in early November, the Doctor said mom had 6 months. I felt
that I am going to be cheated of a grandmother for my new son.
She has met and fallen inlove with this grand child since he was
placed in our home. I expected to meet a mother distraught about
not being able to see Sammy grow up. Instead, I met a mother who
was serene about her death. She said two things that helped her;
one was seeing that Sammy was there to continue our family name
and a future for all of us into the future, second, she has lived
for seventy but beyond that, she says is God's grace andthat she
is thankful for the rest.

I, for selfish reasons, want her to be around so that I don't
have to deal with the pain but now I know that she has really
accepted her life beyond with all our relatives. When we left
Vancouver after Christmas, there were tears; these were tears of
joy that we were able to celebrate one more Christmas. Our next
goal will be Sammy's first birthday with grandma.

cal

RE.1 
    
    The poem you listed in your note is called "ISSIE'S MESSAGE" and
    was written by Isabel M. Hickey.  It was read at my daughters funeral
    and I have a copy hanging in my office.
    

    
    I learned what it was like to lose someone close to you when my sister
    passed away almost 14 years ago.  She was 27 and died of a very rare
    form of cancer (appendix), I was 14.  Toward the end, she refused to
    see me because the cancer had really taken it's toll on her appearance
    and it was her wish that I remember her the way she looked prior to her
    illness.  I wanted to be there for her.
    
    When Janet died, her last wish was to have her ashes buried in the
    Memorial Garden at the church.  The Memorial Garden was not ready so a
    memorial service was helded and her ashes buried a few months later. 
    The day the ashes were buried was overcast.  Once her ashes were
    buried, the sun broke through the clouds over the Memorial Garden in
    the formed a perfect cross in the sky.  It was an incredible sight.  
    That one thing said more to me than any words ever could.
    
    Beckie

My best friends father was murdered the last day  of our sophomore year in 
high school.  It was _very_ hard for me to know how to help her deal with 
the loss. That was my first introduction to dealing with death that had a 
personal effect.

A little more than a year later, two weeks before my senior year in high 
school my father died while undergoing open-heart surgery. He was 45. My 
folks were divorced a couple of years earlier, and he wasn't living with 
us at the time, but we all lived in the same town.  My brother, sister, and 
myself went to visit him at the hospital the evening before the operation. 
Dad didn't *look* sick, and I was uncomfortable being there at the hospital due 
to the effect that the divorce had on all of us.  I didn't understand the 
severity of the operation he was about to have performed.  The next evening
his (new) wife called my brother to let him know that dad had died during
surgery.  Immediatly the "I wish I had..." feelings smothered me.  Now when 
something significant happens in my life I find myself wondering how dad 
would have thought about it.  What kind of relationship would we have had 
today, as adults, vs. child-parent? What issues would we agree or disagree?
The passing of time helps the pain to go when dealing with death, but the 
feeling of loss comes and goes again and again.

My mother's mom passed away this past October. Even though this woman had 
lived a long life (she was 78), my mom is caught up in the " I wish I 
had..." emotions.  I'm confident she'll work thru this, but the past 
holiday season was a little tough.

re.1.....thanks for posting the poem. I was gong to mail a copy of it to my 
mom.  I think it will help.



~robin

    Since August of 1982, I have been dealing in one way or another,
    with a series of deaths, beginning with my husband of 30 years
    17 days after his 56th birthday in 1982 and my father's death
    3 weeks later, two very close and long time friends that
    Christmas and New Year's day, through the death this past
    Christmas Eve of my daughter's oldest and dearest friend (37) who died
    of AIDS.  
    
    I cried so much after my husband and father died, it still amazes
    me I ever managed to stop.  And now, although I cried at Wally's
    funeral and even before, thinking of his impending death, I stop
    myself out of fear that if I ever begin again, I will not quit
    this time.
    
    But life goes on...one lives the best one can using the experiences
    and joys and love of the past and builds a new life on that
    solid base.   
    
    Marilyn
    
    
    
   
    
    
    
  
    

    My GodMother died Dec 8, just 2 days before I was scheduled 
    to fly out to see her.  This woman has been as important to 
    me as my mother.  I was so angry she died, couldn't she have 
    waited till I could see her one more time?  I worried about 
    my mother, losing her older sister.  She also was planning a 
    trip to calif to see her.  How was my mother going to get 
    through this? How could I ?
    
    I spent the afternoon with mom, crying, talking, and even 
    laughing as we remenbered Aunt Pat.  We had seen her last
    September, when she came here for a visit.  She had cancer,
    and we knew she might die soon.  But knowing intellectually
    is not knowing emotionally.  And this shook me very hard.
    
    I spoke with my cousin, who told me that my aunt had been ready
    to die, in fact had said that while she was looking forward
    to seeing us again, she wished we didn't have to see her
    since she now looked terrible, clearing showing signs of a 
    terminal illness.  And Aunt Pat did not want her family to
    have to deal with the fact that she was dying through the
    christmass holiday.  She had accepted death, and was ready.
    
    I don't know how I feel about it now.  I am so glad I had a 
    chance to see her in Sep, and to tell her all the things I wanted
    to say.  And to hear from her again all the things I needed to 
    hear.  I am glad she died peacefully; I wish I could see her
    again. I am glad she is no longer in pain.
    
    Oh yeah,  my cousin tells me of a vision she has, of my aunt
    with her mother and father, (both deceased), and that she is
    smiling, and looking well again.  I don't know if I believe
    in life after death or not,  but there is something so very
    comforting about that vision.  Maybe that is why we have
    religions.
    
    Mary 

    My Grandfather died this past summer, on a morning just hours before I
    arrived to visit with my grandparents.  He had been failing steadily
    for several months, and was sad (and angry at times) at his condition.
    He'd led a full life of 90 years, and died of 'old age'.
    
    I arrived for breakfast with my grandparents and uncle (who had been
    there for quite some time to assist with Grampa's care.)  I was on a
    whirlwind business trip.  My uncle was preparing breakfast as I
    arrived.  After we had talked a bit, my Grandmother entered the
    kitchen.
    
    She said that Grampa died very early that morning.  She had noticed
    that he had trouble breathing around 3:00 AM, but then he appeared to
    drift off into a peaceful sleep.  We shared tears and hugs and our
    love for her and for him.
    
    After breakfast Grama and my uncle quickly reverted to 'what do we
    have to do'.  Working out the particulars began to take over the
    morning.  I had to return for the business meetings of the day.  The
    following weekend the family attended the memorial service.
    
    Grama told me sometime during this period that they both had had time
    to say good bye.  They had been married 60+ years and shared much.
    The night before my arrival, Grama reminded him that I was coming, and
    he smiled, contented.
    
    Grampa was an incredible man who was more of a father to me than a
    grandfather.  His values and ethics shaped mine.  He and Grama always
    accepted me for what I was without judgements and criticism.  He and
    Grama were a great refuge for me during periods when my parents and I
    were having tough periods.
    
    While Grampa is gone from this life, he is still with me and the
    others he loved.  I often feel his presence with me, and I feel his
    comfort.

  I loved Judy Blume's book on this subject called "Tiger Eyes."  Its about
a 14-15 year old girl whose father ran a convenience store in Atlantic City
and who was murdered during a holdup attempt.  It does a pretty good job
describing how a family adjusts to that situation and how she herself deals
with the loss of her dad.

    My grandfather died of a heart attack the summer before my sophomore 
    year in college. I found out later that he had had a smaller 'warning'
    attack 3 days before he died, but my dad and my aunt decided not
    to call us "so we wouldn't worry". I've thought about it many times
    since then, and I wish we had had some warning. 
    
    When my dad called to tell us what had happened, I was on my way
    out the door to pick up a friend and go to buy concert tickets.
    After I had cried for a very few minutes, I ran out the door and
    went to pick up my friend. I had the strongest, most compelling
    urge to do exactly what I had planned to do. I couldn't stop crying
    the whole time, either. A detached part of me was very interested
    in why I had to do what I did.
                                                              
    When I went back to college, as part of a research project I was
    doing, I did a lot of reading on death and how people deal with
    it and the process of grieving. One of the most interesting things
    I read was that it is very common when someone learns of the death
    of a loved one for that someone to (want to) eat like crazy, make
    love, run etc. All affirmations of life. 
    
    So this explained my compulsion to do what I did and the rest of
    the research and reading was my way of coming to grips with and
    accepting his death. I feel that I was very lucky that that particular
    project came along at that particular time when I needed it the
    most. I am also very grateful that I feel comfortable with the fact
    that he knew how much I loved him and how special he was to me.
    We were always very close. I would hate to have my memories of him
    clouded with the thought that "I wish I had told him..."

    My deepest sympathy and warmest hugs to all of you who are grieving
    now. Also, my admiration for being able to share your feelings in
    here.
    
    -Amy.                                                   

    I have just joined the womannotes file and somehow stumbled across
    this topic.  A few of you know me from other notes files, and a
    few of you know what has happened to me.  Just so that I can vent
    it a little bit, I'm going to write my story here.
    
    On November 14, 1987, I got engaged to be married.  Needless to
    say, I was excited.  I had made all kinds of plans and everything.
    You know, typical wedding plans.  I was very much in love with him
    and knew that we would be as happy as ever.
                                                       
    Well, one night, my fiance, Tommy, had stopped by the house with a friend.
    He and his friend were out riding on Tommy's motorcycle.  He had
    asked me to meet him at his house so that he could drop off his
    motorcycle and I could give him a ride to go and get his truck.
    Well, he got ready to go, I told him that I loved him, and he left.
    I got to his house at around 8:00 and waited for him.  Finally at
    around 8:30, I couldn't wait any longer because I had something
    to do.  I got home at around 9:00 and my mother said that Tommy
    hadn't called yet.  I tried calling his house and there was no answer.
    I called his friend's house and asked if Tommy was there.  His mother
    said no.  Then I asked if her son was there and she said that Peter
    had been in an accident.  I immediately paniced, but death had not
    entered my mind at all.  I figured that Tommy probably got banged
    up a little bit and that maybe this would convince him not to ride
    the motorcycle anymore.  Well, I got to the hospital and his mother
    informed me that Tommy had been killed on impact.  I WOULDN'T BELIEVE
    HER!!  Not until the doctor came in and told me.  Then I went into
    hysterics.  We had so many plans ahead of us.  So many dreams that
    hadn't been fulfilled!  It was so unfair!
    
    After about two months I finally decided that if something like
    this did have to happen, I was glad that it happened now.  It probably
    would have been worse if we had been married for a while and possible
    had children.  It still hurts very much to think about Tommy sometimes.
    I found a picture of him the other day along with his old workshirt
    and I broke out into tears again.  It has been 8 months now that
    Tommy has been gone.  I know that his memory will live in my heart
    forever.  
    
    I really don't have any solution for dealing with death.  I do know
    that time has helped me a great deal.  Thank you for letting me
    vent this a little bit.
    
    Holly
    

    re .21 Holly-
    
     Ouch! I feel for you. Such a crisis has never happened to me, but
    I'm sure I'd be devastated. I'm impressed that you can deal with
    the situation enough to share your pain with us. I wish there was
    more we could do.
    
    Hugs,
    -E

    
    Holly,
    
    Your reply was very moving. I feel very sad for what happened
    to you. You sound like an incredibly strong person. I don't really
    know what else to say. I guess I just wanted to let you know you
    were definitely heard.
    
    Roberta

    On January 17, 1989, one of my co-workers here in the L.A. office
    was murdered.  We all were, and still are, in shock.  
    
    I think that the suddenness of her death made me realize what is really
    important in this life, and what doesn't matter.
    
    She was a wonderful lady and a very special person.  Everyone who
    met her, couldn't help but like her.
    
    I will miss her smile, her enthusiasm and her friendship.  She still
    is an inspiration to me.
    
    -Colleen 

    My first son Aidan was stillborn on March 2nd, 7 years ago. He lived
    inside me for nine months, and just never made the transition
    through to live on his own in the world. No reason was ever found.
    Such a short life-cycle: through birth to death. It really served
    to show me what a miracle and a gift life is. 
    
    We used this reading when we buried Aidan. It brought something
    positive and gave an element of hope to a very sad time. It comes
    from the Old Testament, Ecclesiastes - Chapter 3 Death, from the
    Wisdom Book. 
              
    From Clare and Nick, for Aidan:          
    
    
         There is a season for everything, a time for
         every occupation under heaven:
              A time for giving birth,
              a time for dying;
              a time for planting,
              a time for uprooting what has been planted.
              A time for killing,
              a time for healing;
              a time for knocking down,
              a time for building.
              A time for tears,
              a time for laughter;
              a time for mourning,
              a time for dancing.
              A time for throwing stones away,
              a time for gathering up;
              a time for embracing,
              a time to refrain from embracing.
              A time for searching,
              a time for losing;
              a time for keeping,
              a time for throwing away.
              A time for tearing,
              a time for sewing;
              a time for keeping silent,
              a time for speaking.
              A time for loving,
              a time for hating;
              a time for war,
              a time for peace.
              
              
              
                                                  
    

    My sister lost her husband 2 1/2 years ago, this was the absolute
    worst thing to happen!  My sister (13 years my senior) had previously
    been an abused wife, she finally met a man that treated her like
    a queen, which she totally deserved.  My sister had a rough childhood
    (the reason why I was born when she was 13), she had a rare kidney
    disease which resulted in removing the kidney.  She had 2 beautiful
    sons with her second husband.  John was the picture of health, 42
    years old, a marathon runner and a very successful businessman.
    It was the morning of their 11 wedding anniversary and John did
    his usual morning jog, on the way home he stopped at the deli to
    pick up rolls to make Barbara breakfast in bed.  He made it to the
    top of the hill by their house and had a massive heart attack. 
    My sister and the boys were devestated, as was John's mom (John
    was an only child).  My oldest nephew blamed himself for his fathers
    death saying he must have been a bad boy for God to take his daddy
    away.  To even add more anguish to the situation, John's mother
    passed away exactly 6 weeks after him, she often said she couldn't
    live without him (her husband had passed away 9 years prior).  Well
    my sister has finally started to put her life back together; she
    went back to work part-time and has even started to date a really
    terrific guy.  The one major problem with Barbara is that she is
    really afraid of getting close to another man in fear of going through
    a loss again.
    

    
    I have read all the replys, because this is a subject that I'm
    unfortunately wrestling with right now...
    
    I recently lost my brother (February 2, 1989) He was 36......
    
    But his death is different than what has been discussed so far.
    For Stephen it was suicide....  Now I'm trying to accept that
    he felt his life was not worth living...  That he couldn't 
    see the good things in life...  That the pain he was experiencing
    was so terrible that for him, it was the ONLY answer...  
    
    It's really too painful for me to talk about right now... 
    But if anyone out there has survived this happening in their lives..
    I would appreciate any insights....  whether you post it here ....
    or if you want to sent me a VAX mail....  Thanks....
                                                                      
    Trying to heal.....
    
    Kathie             
      ~~               
    Kathie
    
    

    Kathie,
    
    Although I've never experienced the loss of a sibling, I did have
    a friend who thought that life for her was not worth living, and
    so she ended it.  I don't have any answers for you except to say
    that time really does heal the hurt.  I don't think there are any
    answers anyway...I couldn't, and still can't understand what could
    have been so bad that life was not worth living...but it is not
    our choice, but the person who has left us.  
    
    For what it's worth, think of the fact that if things were so bad
    for your brother, he may now be at the place where he couldn't be
    in life....a place of peace.  Be comforted in the fact that he is
    at peace, because he found in death what he could not obviously
    find in life.
    
    Hang in there,
    JayCee
      

    Karen,
    
    I would like to thank you for your note.  I realize the reply was
    to Kathie but I am so glad you entered it here.  I was so moved
    by it and I think it will benefit others.
    
    Thanks,
    
    Marie
    
                                             

    This is a poem by Theodora Kroebeer that my mother left with her
    last wishes for my brother, sister, and myself that I'd like to
    share.  It will be read next Saturday at her committal service.
    It's helped me deal with her death.
    
    			"Poem for the Living"
    
    		When I am dead,
    		Cry for me a little.
    		Think of me sometimes,
    		But not too much.
    		It is not good for you
    		Or your wife or your husband
    		Or your children
    		To allow your thoughts to dwell
    		Too long on the dead.
    		Think of me now and again
    		As I was in life
    		At some moment which it is pleasant to recall.
    		But not for long.
    		Leave me in peace
    		As I shall leave you, too, in peace.
    		While you live,
    		Let your thoughts be with the living.
    
    
    

    
    
    Kathie,  What you are going through is very difficult.  Although
    I have never been the surviving family member of someone who chooses
    to not continue living.   I did attempt to end my own life 9 years
    ago.   There are times in some peoples life when the PAIN of living
    is so horrible that the only answer seems to be to not continue
    to live.  At the time of my deepest despair, I felt that I was in
    a long black tunnel that I couldn't get out of.  Every aspect of
    my life was in emotional agony.  At the time I could see no end,
    to my despair.  Outwardly, I appeared perhaps a little moody and
    perhaps a little disoriented, but certainly no one in my family
    knew the depth of my pain and dispair.  In a way I felt that to
    admit to them that I was suffering so, would cause them pain which
    for me would increase my pain 20 times over.  I don't believe there
    was anything that my family could have done to have prevented me
    from doing what I did.  I was too trapped in my own world to under
    stand or even think about anyone else.
    
    Taking ones life, isn't the answer to anything, and I know that
    now.  I guess I really relate to this topic, because I am going
    through some very, very, very, intensely painfull times now and
    find myself slipping back down into my depression.  This time I
    will be seeking professional help.
    
    Perhaps, you could utilize the EAP and talk to some professionals
    about your pain, and the anger you must feel.
    
    I don't know if I helped at all, but I would talk to you offline
    if you would like.  It is important to remember that no-one can
    really know what is going on inside of anouther human.  I suspect
    the worse thing about someone taking there life, is that you wonder
    if there was something you could have done or said to prevent it.
    
    
    susan chadsey
    

    I can't express the feelings of warmth, sadness and beauty I felt
    reading through this topic. My heart reaches out to each of you
    in your sadness, and your sharing.
    
    My very close friend Bob died at Christmastime in 1986, at
    the age of 28 from AIDS. Although I knew he was dying I still had
    a very hard time dealing with his death, wondering where he'd gone
    and how his lover and family would find the strength to go on.
                                                              
    His funeral was beautiful and tragic at the same time. We had been
    an unusual group of close knit friends who stayed in close touch
    10 years after high school, all now mourning together.
    
    What got me through it, and still does, is something I heard somewhere
    -- that each time a person dies, a new star appears in the sky at
    night.  That is a very comforting thought for me. Each evening when
    I go out to walk the dog, I enjoy looking at the heavens, and saying
    hello to Bob and Michael (his lover died 10 months later, also of
    AIDS).
    
    I know they're up there, smiling and enjoying themselves -- I can
    see the twinkle.
    
    Lynn
    
    

    
    A good friend of my mother and ex-girlfriend of my brother lost
    her father recently. He committed suicide, and she was the one who
    found him, hanged. I can't get over how horrible it must have been
    for her to find him like that. They weren't close, but still...
    
    The girl lost her mother to cancer about a year ago, and she herself
    has had an ongoing drug problem.
    
    This may sound strange, but I keep thinking I wish she worked for
    DEC so she could have the support I know the people in this notesfile
    would give her. I feel so sad for her and for all of you in this
    note who are going through something similar.
    
    Roberta

    This topic has stayed on my mind over the weekend.  I spent some
    time with my Mom and I was talking to her about it.  She told me
    the story of my cousin's wife, it's something I had never known
    about her.  She seems so normal and well adjusted, but personally
    I dont know how well I would have been able to go on with my life
    after such a tragedy.
    
    When she was 11 or 12 (I'd say she's about 30 now) she came home
    from school to find her mother had blown her brains out, literally.
    The kitchen (where she had done it) was a complete mess, just as
    you would imagine.  She had 2 younger sisters coming home anytime,
    so she cleaned the mess up by herself so that they wouldn't have
    to see it.  Can you imagine her shock and then rushing to clean
    it up?  God, it's so unfathomable to me.
    
    

    re: 32
    
    Susan,
    
    I think you are a VERY BRAVE woman to admit the things that you
    did in this file.  Reading your note explained some of the dispair
    that must go through people's minds that are contemplating suicide.
    
    And, for what it's worth, and although I know you are seeking
    counseling, I think that you are already half-way there, and I applaud
    your tenacity.  Lots of luck to you...
    
    JayCee
    

    
    Four years ago today I lost the best thing that ever happened to me,
    apart from my son, to suicide.  Skip was a Field Service tech at the
    HLO facility in Hudson.  He didn't give a hint that anything was wrong.
    
    We complemented each other very well.  He was very reserved and I'm
    very outgoing.  Then one Thursday night I heard those three little
    words that I'd been wanting to hear him say for a long time. 
    
    Friday night came and went when I was suddenly awaken by this odd 
    feeling of a presence in the room.  I just couldn't shake this feeling 
    and had a terrible time falling back to sleep.  I don't know why, but 
    just before falling to sleep again, something made me look at the time;
    it was 1:28 a.m. give or take a couple minutes. 
    
    Saturday afternoon his mother phoned.  When she said she had some bad
    news, I never imagined it would be this.  The next thing I heard was, 
    "Skipper's dead".  He died at 1:30 a.m., about the time I woke to the 
    odd feeling of a presence.  
    
    The last words Skip said to me was 'I love you' and 'bye' when we hung
    up the telephone that Thursday before.  I honestly believe that the 
    feeling of a presence I woke to that night was Skip saying goodbye.  He
    was 26.
    
    For several weeks afterward, I drove to Worcester to put a dozen roses 
    on his grave two or three times a week.  Now I am unable to get there 
    because an epileptic seizure triggered by the stress of his death caused
    me to have an automobile accident for which the doctor pulled my license.
    
    As time passes, I think about it and wonder if there weren't signs I
    had missed but can't seem to find any.  Toward the end he was depressed
    but that wasn't unusual for Skip.  Skip had a chemical imbalance which
    required constant monitoring of medication and very often changes in
    medication.  Mood swings were part of the illness as well as side effects
    from the different medications.
    
    To help me deal with my feelings, I wrote them down on paper:
    
		          An Ode To Skip

		We shared a special love together,
		 one that will live with us forever.
		The time we had was precious though 
    		 it wasn't long.
		I feel as though the cards life dealt
		 us are like the words from a sad love 
    		 song.
		
		As different as night and day,
		 Yet alike in so many ways.
		You, the quiet, shy, and reserved
		 brought to me the happiness I thought 
    		 I would never find.
		I, the outgoing of the two, pledged to 
    		 you my love everlasting with all my 
    		 heart, soul and mind.

		When you died, I died too.
		Life is so empty without you by my side.
		The feelings you never understood but 
    		 tried so hard - sometimes, too hard - 
    		 are now very clear.
		You loved me as I did you.

		God gave to me someone to love and to 
    		 love me in return; and,
		Even though that someone has been taken 
    		 away, God did not take away your love.
		For in my heart, I know that you will 
    		 always be there - to listen when I need 
    		 to talk, to let me feel loveed when sad,
    		 and to watch over me as my guardian angel.

		And now, life for me must go on.
		Continue to love me, Skip, as you did on 
    		 earth and I will love you always.
		Maybe in another life, we will be together 
    		 again; 
    		To be together as we were and should have 
    		 been in this lifetime.
		Until then, know that I love you and miss 
    		 you.  Rest in peace.

    I've been sitting here reading all the replies and crying.  My father
    killed himself 4 years ago this past March 13.  My father had always
    been my mentor.  He was a veterinarian and loved animals so much.  I
    used to go on large animal calls and help him in the clinic with small
    animals.  He was a strong and caring man.  He and Mom had come down for
    my daughter's second birthday 3 weeks beforehand and I noticed that he
    was acting a bit differently than what I remembered as being normal for
    him.  He was always sociable and friendly with a fantastic sense of
    humour.  
    
    There are many reasons he could have killed himself.  My mother and I have
    pondered over a bunch of them.  I've gotten over the anger at what he
    put my mother through - she found him in the front foyer with his head
    blown off - but every year on his birthday, I get very depressed.  I'm
    no good to anyone (at work or at home) on that day.  I suppose it might
    have something to do with the fact that my dad's birthday is the day
    after my birthday.  My birthday also includes my husband's birthday and
    our anniversary.  I'm super high on life one day, super low on death
    the next.  
    
    The one thing that has kept me wondering since his death is that the
    morning of the day he died, I saw a milk truck from my hometown (where
    the rest of my family was living) on my way to work.  My hometown is
    250 miles from where I worked at the time.  I almost called him around
    1:30 that afternoon, just to say hi and to tell him what I saw.  When
    we went back home for the funeral, I found out he had killed himself 
    around 1:45.
    
    I have dreams about my father and in every dream that I remember
    having, I always say something like "But how can you be here?  You're
    dead!"  He always has an excuse as to why he's not dead - most likely
    my subconscious trying to avoid the reality of his death.  
    
    Many things have happened to me and/or my family during the month of
    March, but none really so devastating as my dad killing himself.
    
    

    Did anyone tape today's "Oprah Winfrey" show?  It dealt with adult
    children of parent(s) who committed suicide.  If someone has it and
    lives/works close to Littleton, MA or Nashua, NH, could I please borrow
    the cassette?  Thanks.

    
    SET SOUL = BARED
    
    A friend of mine killed himself today.  And nobody expected it.
    He was someone I saw at least once a week, one of a treasured group
    of friends from college....
    
    I never knew anyone very closely who died before.
    
    We gathered together, clinging to one another like flotsam
    from some shipwreck.  We cried like lost children.  We made sure
    everyone was okay.  The phone was in use constantly.  We wondered
    why he would do this - how he could have done this to himself, and
    to us (a selfish thought).  What could have been so unescapable
    that he would have chosen a silent anguish ending in death?  
    
    He was in his twenties, working on his master's degree.
    He was artistic and warm.  He called the ambulance after he took
    the poison....but there was nothing they could do.....
    
    Driving home from the sharing time, the caring time, things seemed
    brighter and more brittle.  I felt very very mortal.  
    It is so hard to picture him stilled and silent.
    His name springs easily to mind, but is very difficult to utter.
    
    The experience of hearing about the suicide of a friend is like
    climbing a ladder, and missing a rung.  You are jarred and unstable.
    You blame yourself.  But upon looking down, you find the rung was not 
    there in the first place, and it was not your fault.  The misstep
    was unavoidable - there were no signs - no warnings (and believe
    me, we sought them - searched our minds a thousand times for them).
    You feel a fear of falling, a gratitude that you are still able
    to climb.  You promise yourself you will look at all the rungs more
    closely from now on.  
    
    Many of us reacted differently to the grief.  Some cried.  Some
    were angry.  Some are still in that sudden-shock state like the
    lightning and silence that comes before a storm.  
    
    I really needed to share this.....thanks for listening....
    
    SET SOUL = SHIELDED
    
    -Jody
    

    I am terribly sorry to hear that Jody.  
    There is nothing I can really say, 'cept wht my grandmother told
    me when Grampy died suddenly....
    
    "Cry Allan, it cleanses a painful soul...."
    
    Somehow, that seems fitting to add here....
    
    
  

    I commend you for expressing it in such a beautiful way.
    
    take care,
    

    
    Jody, I am sorry to read such sad news. Know that my thoughts are
    with you and your friends.
    
    If there is anything I can do, please let me know.
    
    Hugs,
    Ann Marie

    My heart goes out to you, Jody.  From personal experience, I know that
    a suicidal individual is crying out for help, and many don't know how
    to express that need.  Would that he could have been as strong as Fran
    in dealing with problems deep inside.
    
    Remember all the good times you shared together.  They will help keep you 
    whole.
    
    Carol
    

    Thank you, all, file-sharers, mail-sharers......
    
    You remind me that the warmth, strength, and calmth of the people
    in this file is what makes it utterly unique, and startlingly
    beautiful.  
    
    -Jody

    Jody,
    
    Please add me to the list of people sending you condolences....
    
    Life....a terrible thing to waste.....  I have written before
    in this conference about my brother's suicide....NOTE .27....
    
    It has been a little over six months now since my brother's death...
    So I find it a little (key work is "little") easier to talk about
    him now...  And talk IS one of the best way to try and heal...
    
    Some days you can think about the person and smile and remember
    the good times.... Other days you're afraid to think about them because
    it's too painful....  I guess it all part of the healing process...
    And everyone heals and/or copes in their own way.... And sometimes
    it takes time to find out what "your way" is...  There is no
    time limit on mourning...  So don't push yourself...
    
    I would be amiss if I didn't take this opportunity to thank
    all the people that responded to my previous note... There are alot
    of caring people out there in NOTES Land... And I really appreciate
    all of your kind words....                         
    
    Live life now...there are no guarntees
    
    Kathie
      ~
    
                                                              

    I see tremendous understanding out here, I wish to ask a relevant
    question.  I have never and will never know the answer.
    
    My father died two years ago.  He died on Mother's Day.  The
    circumstances were such that no one can know if it was a suicide
    or an accident.  I have vacillated many times between knowing it
    was a suicide and knowing it was an accident.
    
    I do not know which would be more comforting, that he found the peace
    that he wanted, or that it was a freak of nature that separated
    him from us.  Does anyone have any suggestions?
    
    Mother's Day is not much of a holiday in my book.
                                                   
    Robbie

    The way I would try to fit it in my psychological/emotional frame
    of  reference (and please don't tell me I'm being hokey, I know
    not everyone believes this kind of thing)....
    
    1.  If it was suicide, then perhaps he has found the peace he wishes,
    and his needs (whatever they were) are being met.  Do not mourn
    him overmuch because his ends were to find his own peace, not to
    make those who loved him sad....I'm sure he would not want you to
    be very sad for a long time, and it is good to fulfill the wishes
    of those passed...
    
    2.  If it was an accident, then there is peace in the belief that
    there is am omniscient, omnipresent, infinite-radiant-is deity who
    saw it needed to be so, and made it so.  I would like to think that
    those who perish young, in what seems to be the prime of their life,
    are needed elsewhere/elsewhen so greatly that circumstances cannot
    wait for them to finish this life fully.  I would like to think
    that after this life there is a better place to go, and if one is
    *needed* in a better place post-haste, perhaps that is an honor
    and a task that should be heeded....
    
    Of course, these are just suggestions.....
    
    *warmth*
    
    -Jody

    Sometimes you don't know which it is.                  
                                                                    
    I don't know if my mother's death was suicide or natural. She fell
    asleep smoking, started a fire, and died from smoke inhalation.
    (No one else was injured, and fire damage was minor.) Blood tests
    showed high concentrations of barbiturates -- borderline as to
    lethality.                  
                                
    At the time she was physically ill, in considerable pain, and very
    depressed. My father had died about a year earlier. She was so unhappy
    and miserable that her death brought her a respite and surcease. 
    
    
    There is a category of death midway between suicide and accidents
    called "sub-intentional suicide." It is sometimes used to indicate
    people who are not necessarily suicidal, but who don't
    particularly care if they live or not. Such people often indulge
    in self-destructive behavior such as excessive risk-taking, lack
    of proper care, and so forth. I'm sure my mother belonged in this
    group. Perhaps your father did, too.

    Bruce
                                         

    Re .48
    
    Jody, your explanation is anything but hokey == quite thoughtful and
    calming, to say the least.
    
    --Lynn