For those who have lost their dads, and the dads who have lost sons or daughters.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Dads
It suddenly occurred to me that just because I am fortunate enough to still have my dad, at this stage of my life, I am one of the very few who do. One of my best friends just lost her dad in January. I know this will be a hard day for her. He was 90 when he died and a WW II vet. I look on facebook and see post after post of friends my age who are remembering their dads who are gone now. Especially fun and touching are the black and white photos with my friends as children and their young dads with their Brylcream haircuts. I notice that the passing of years doesn't seem to diminish the sense of love and loss, whether it's one year or twenty, or thirty. We all get just one dad.
I can't imagine what it might be like to have a dad who died by suicide. I had noticed when I was participating in one of the on-line forums that one of the women had lost her dad nearly twenty years ago, and was still working it through in her mind. We say that losing a child is an aberration of nature, that parents should die first. Yet, when a parent dies, it is devastating for a different set of reasons. Our parents were supposed to be our security, the ones to help us. To have them leave by their own hand, and what seems like choosing to not be there for us, must shake us to the core. Especially if someone is young, they then have a whole lifetime of not having their parent. The empty chair at graduation, the bride who doesn't get walked down the aisle, the grandchild that doesn't get held.
I don't want to say a lot, because I don't know how it feels. I know parts of how it feels, and it always feels bad. I know that fathers who lost sons are also feeling bad today, and I know my ex-husband is thinking of Erik.
So to all who are having a hard day today, I just want to say you are being thought of, and my prayers are with you. God bless you.
I can't imagine what it might be like to have a dad who died by suicide. I had noticed when I was participating in one of the on-line forums that one of the women had lost her dad nearly twenty years ago, and was still working it through in her mind. We say that losing a child is an aberration of nature, that parents should die first. Yet, when a parent dies, it is devastating for a different set of reasons. Our parents were supposed to be our security, the ones to help us. To have them leave by their own hand, and what seems like choosing to not be there for us, must shake us to the core. Especially if someone is young, they then have a whole lifetime of not having their parent. The empty chair at graduation, the bride who doesn't get walked down the aisle, the grandchild that doesn't get held.
I don't want to say a lot, because I don't know how it feels. I know parts of how it feels, and it always feels bad. I know that fathers who lost sons are also feeling bad today, and I know my ex-husband is thinking of Erik.
So to all who are having a hard day today, I just want to say you are being thought of, and my prayers are with you. God bless you.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Mental Health Care
Today I had taken a sick day from work and wound up clicking on the TV to watch Dr. Phil. I tend to have a love-hate relationship (well, not a relationship, feelings toward him I mean) with Dr. Phil, because sometimes I think he is so profound with such common sense, and other times I think he is a little "too much". But today I am glad I watched, only to be reminded where my heart is.
Today's episode guested a family of parents and two boys, young men, one of whom has severe conduct/emotional problems. I suppose that it caught my eye because he reminded me of Erik in appearance, and our family structure was also one of two sons. The young man had problems which on the surface seemed very different from Erik, but he was 25, the age of Erik when we lost him, and he also lived with his parents.
During the program, they did not name a diagnosis for his problems, but referred to the family having sought help for him many times, including therapists and counseling, but all to no avail. The greatest difference in this young man's problems and my son was the fact that he became extraordinarily violent with his family, and in fact nearly killed his brother at one time, hitting him in the back of the head with a wooden object. His outbursts were so aggressive and violent, as well as frequent, that my heart just went out to the family. It seemed they were in fear for their lives, yet were unable to find any solution to solve the problem or find the right help for their son. They had tried everything, had been struggling for seven years, and had made no progress.
Been there, done that.
And here they were, on the Dr. Phil show.
At one point I had one of my tsunami moments and was brought to tears, which doesn't happen to me that often any more. But throughout the interview, it was clear that this man meant no ill will to his parents and brother, and was at a loss to explain why he is unable to control his behavior. His description of the despair and remorse he feels afterward, broke my heart. Finally, at one point, he looked his mom in the eye and simply said, "I love you, mom". She replied that she loved him as well.
How unfair is this? This typical family, good people, who had probably led a lovely existence and maintained their family life, torn to shreds by their son's mental health problems. How were they unable to find help for their son? Where is the medical community? How is it that we can clone living things and transplant body parts, but we are so short of learning enough about our brains and body chemistry to treat mental health problems. Or are there just not enough of us who care? Or are the politicians not willing to designate enough funding for the research?
I'm not sure what the answer is, but I am sick to death of it. Young men like this one, (and my son and young women), are healthy young people who should have an opportunity to live a productive and happy life. These parents should be rewarded for their efforts in raising their children in a loving and nurturing home. If destiny has thrown them a curve ball, and they continue to try, try for seven years, where is the help and resources they should be able to find?
I just can't believe in my heart that the medical community couldn't be doing a better job. There is a missing link here. I don't know if it is awareness, willingness, lack of compassion, or poor priorities when delegating dollars.
I do know that the suffering is excruciating, and that the number of people visited by this tragedy is growing every day.
There is movement toward doing better. There are organizations and individuals campaigning for awareness and raising funds. If you do an internet search, it would seem that help is everywhere.
But it isn't.
Take my word for it.
Today's episode guested a family of parents and two boys, young men, one of whom has severe conduct/emotional problems. I suppose that it caught my eye because he reminded me of Erik in appearance, and our family structure was also one of two sons. The young man had problems which on the surface seemed very different from Erik, but he was 25, the age of Erik when we lost him, and he also lived with his parents.
During the program, they did not name a diagnosis for his problems, but referred to the family having sought help for him many times, including therapists and counseling, but all to no avail. The greatest difference in this young man's problems and my son was the fact that he became extraordinarily violent with his family, and in fact nearly killed his brother at one time, hitting him in the back of the head with a wooden object. His outbursts were so aggressive and violent, as well as frequent, that my heart just went out to the family. It seemed they were in fear for their lives, yet were unable to find any solution to solve the problem or find the right help for their son. They had tried everything, had been struggling for seven years, and had made no progress.
Been there, done that.
And here they were, on the Dr. Phil show.
At one point I had one of my tsunami moments and was brought to tears, which doesn't happen to me that often any more. But throughout the interview, it was clear that this man meant no ill will to his parents and brother, and was at a loss to explain why he is unable to control his behavior. His description of the despair and remorse he feels afterward, broke my heart. Finally, at one point, he looked his mom in the eye and simply said, "I love you, mom". She replied that she loved him as well.
How unfair is this? This typical family, good people, who had probably led a lovely existence and maintained their family life, torn to shreds by their son's mental health problems. How were they unable to find help for their son? Where is the medical community? How is it that we can clone living things and transplant body parts, but we are so short of learning enough about our brains and body chemistry to treat mental health problems. Or are there just not enough of us who care? Or are the politicians not willing to designate enough funding for the research?
I'm not sure what the answer is, but I am sick to death of it. Young men like this one, (and my son and young women), are healthy young people who should have an opportunity to live a productive and happy life. These parents should be rewarded for their efforts in raising their children in a loving and nurturing home. If destiny has thrown them a curve ball, and they continue to try, try for seven years, where is the help and resources they should be able to find?
I just can't believe in my heart that the medical community couldn't be doing a better job. There is a missing link here. I don't know if it is awareness, willingness, lack of compassion, or poor priorities when delegating dollars.
I do know that the suffering is excruciating, and that the number of people visited by this tragedy is growing every day.
There is movement toward doing better. There are organizations and individuals campaigning for awareness and raising funds. If you do an internet search, it would seem that help is everywhere.
But it isn't.
Take my word for it.