Out of the Darkness

This morning was the Out of the Darkness walk for the awareness and prevention of suicide.  I had actually forgotten about it until about 2:00 am this morning.  I was sleeping well but awoke with a start and remembered the walk.  I thought there was no way I would make it; the emotion of it was too great, and I went back to sleep.  At 7:00, Trent and I woke up, and I still waffled about going.  As I sipped coffee, I remembered my friends and family who donated money on the premise that I would walk.  I was positive none of them would fault me for staying home and crying, but I couldn't rest with that thought, and I felt certain I should go.

As I drove to the coliseum, the tears flowed and I experienced an unusual (for me) sense of social anxiety at the thought of walking into a crowd of people by myself.  I was wearing the t-shirt with the above picture and Chad's name with the years of his birth and death.  I felt exposed and raw, as though I was carrying a great ball of pain and holding it out for all the world to see.  I regretted my decision to go alone, and I wished for a hand to hold. 

I was forcibly calm as I walked into the crowds of people, registered, got my t-shirt prize from the money raised, and walked among the tents with brochures about suicide in the elderly, the military, and in the LGBTQ community.   I collected as much information as my purse would hold.  Suicide prevention is now a professional interest for me.

As the ceremonies began, different metaphors and stories brought me back to tears:  the pebble in a pond, the minimum of 100 people affected by each suicide, the memory of a service member who presented her life as perfect, even as she was suicidal.   A young woman in a rainbow shirt held a sign that said "It is okay not to be okay" on one side and "You are not alone" on the other side.  I wanted to hug her and tell her she was wise beyond her years.  Everywhere, people had pictures of lost loved ones, smiling in their frozen moment of time, just as Chad smiles above.  Yet, there was a joyful quality to the crowd, which confused me.

 As the walk began, I was delighted to see we were walking on the beach sidewalk.  At that same beach, I had once spent a day with my siblings.  I was 11 or 12 and Chad was 16 or 17.  I wondered if we had touched the spot I was looking at, if I had begged Chad to wait for me as he went further into the gulf.  Were we both blistering in the sun?  Had we helped our younger siblings make a sand castle?  Had we collected seashells with hermit crabs?  The tears flowed again.

 As I walked, I heard conversations around me.  Many were not about suicide, pain, or lost loved ones.  I felt a bit angry but then noticed their t-shirts gave death dates from years ago.  I was reminded that my loss is still fresh, and that in time, I will be able to walk and think of Chad but not feel so adrift and swallowed by pain.  I will be able to have a conversation about something else.

The turn around point for the walk was near this lighthouse.  Perhaps the metaphor is too heavy-handed, but there was beauty in that.  If we are taking people out of the darkness, we need a lighthouse to guide them back.  The sky was beautiful and the light breeze helped dry my tears.  Each of us can be a lighthouse for our loved ones.

After the walk, I talked with a new friend and couldn't control my tears.  We hugged and she validated that my loss is still so new.  Although I have always thought suicide awareness was a worthy cause, it had never been one of my causes.  Now it is.  I sometimes wonder how many causes I can hold dear, but the heart is elastic.

Another new friend asked if I would be interested in starting a support group on the eastern side of the coast.  I immediately balked at the idea as excuses flooded forth:  I've just started a new job; the kids have all their extracurricular activities; I need a babysitter; on and on.  Then I thought:  A principle in the social work code of ethics is service. When I got home, I read it:

Social workers’ primary goal is to help people in need and to address social problems.
Social workers elevate service to others above self-interest. Social workers draw on their knowledge, values, and skills to help people in need and to address social problems. Social workers are encouraged to volunteer some portion of their professional skills with no expectation of significant financial return (pro bono service).

As a professor once said, "This is where the rubber meets the road."

Next year, I will not walk alone.  I hope to have my siblings, my children, my husband, my father, my aunts and uncles, Chad's children, and many friends.