Mother’s Day started out just as I have ever wanted. Quiet. Fed. Off duty. The last thing I wanted to be yesterday was mom, though I still ended up washing dishes and making dinner later in the night. I was in the middle of a race on Mario Kart, when I get a message from a friend. Then another and another.
“Did you see what our mutual friend just posted?”
After refreshing my Facebook timeline, a post from one of my husband’s best friends.
“My brother killed himself.”
I felt that whoosh from my head to my toes. You know the one. The feeling you get when you’ve just been bitch slapped across the face with the most gut wrenching news that sends a shockwave throughout your body. My husband was asleep so I had to yell pretty loud to shake him awake. Our daughter was watching a movie and I couldn’t bring myself to repeat the news out loud.
Matt’s a pretty white guy, but he got whiter.
He was telling me how they’d just been chatting Saturday night about their gardening endeavors. He’d just posted yesterday morning, bitching about the weather. I was already making plans for spending 4th of July together. Our daughters are the same age; I’m heartbroken for his sweet little girl. He just shattered her heart for a lifetime.
He isn’t the first person I know who chooses suicide. One of the moms from my very tight knit birth support group left behind three children. A second one left behind a beautiful future, a promising career in nursing, and a loving family. Another couldn’t cope with the horrors he’d seen in the Middle East. And one more who didn’t think life was all it was cracked up to be.
Not a single one of them gave any indication this was the fork in the road they’d chosen. I’ve tried so hard to understand. And every time I think I get it, I don’t.
If you are thinking about ending your life, though, please consider calling the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 800-237-TALK.