Hard Decisions

        Erik had in his own way orchestrated things very carefully so that no one would intervene.  I also believe with all my heart that he chose to do it somewhere outside of my home, so as to spare me that moment of finding him.  I also know he waited until after Christmas as a gesture to me, as my family had always known I was a bit of a Christmas fanatic.

        Actually, at one point months afterwards, as my father was gently consoling me, he said he felt Erik had partly waited as long as he did to spare the family, that he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

        I think that suicide comes down to simply that:  the person's pain becomes too great to go on, even though they know it will cause extreme turmoil if they decide to "leave".  I recall that I was able to say to those around me very quickly that I was not angry with Erik for leaving, I knew he just couldn't go on any longer.  I did however follow that up by saying I was angry that he had done things in such a way that I couldn't see him one more time. 

        That was probably the most heart-wrenching part of my week, as well as his brother's and father's,  wishing I could see him again.  In fact, his brother had made it a mission that he was going to at one point see him again, and somehow had to have that if he was ever going to have peace of mind.  The police had told him that the county morgue could not legally allow him to see the body, so he accepted that.  However, unbeknownst to me, when we were at the funeral parlor on Wednesday, Jason had procured a promise from the wife of the funeral director that he would be able to be with Erik for a few moments the next morning, Thursday.

        I watched in awe and sadness as Jason assumed responsibility for choosing the clothes that Erik would be buried in, made sure they were ready, while planning on taking them there the next morning.  When I called the funeral director to ask what time Jason should be there, he said he would meet him and take the clothes.  When I told him about Jason spending a moment with Erik, he said he couldn't allow that.

        So I found myself in one of those moments:  I don't know how I found the emotional strength and calmness to argue with this man who was adamant that it could not happen, but I did.  I knew that this was one thing I could do to help Jason process all that had occurred, and to help him with his healing in the future.  I simply told the funeral director that they could not go back on their promise, that this had to happen now.  I'm not sure why, he must have heard something in my voice, because he made a few mild protests, and then said it would be okay.  So we agreed that Jason would be there at 11:00 o'clock.

        Now the obvious thought behind this story is that I could have gone too.  I could have said I wanted to hold my son's hand one more time, knowing I would have to deal with not seeing his beautiful face.  It was a devastating choice.  But I did not seem to consider it for very long, as I seemed to know I just couldn't do it.  In my imagination, I already knew how my son's earthly body looked, to deal with the reality of it was beyond the realm of what I could do.

        So, my son Jason became my hero.  I couldn't understand how he could be brave enough to do this, but since there was no stopping him, I thought of him as my emissary to touch my younger son one more time. 

       I have often wished I had gone.  But, if I had, maybe I would have fallen apart into so many pieces, I could not have done the other things I was able to do.  I will never know.  I guess I take comfort in my belief that Erik knows and understands better than I do about why I made the choices I did.  And, he knows, his brother was there holding his hand.

I wanted to tell this story to help survivors know there is no one way to do things.  It becomes a balance of doing whatever we can to survive, while remembering our loved ones' legacy.  And, we don't have to do everything ourselves.  It's okay to let someone else do something.  Thinking now, I suddenly thought of the term..."instant support system".  Yep, I like that.  A positive offshoot of tragedy is that it elicits an "instant support system".  I will write more about that later.