I wrote a piece a few months back for a guest link to a blog regarding the other side of a tarnished coin; domestic abuse. This is a term that comes with a massive entourage of innuendo and assumption, but like any relationship, it has many facets.
A long time ago I got involved with a woman, no more than a girl at the time. It was heady and she was passionate to the point of obsession. I'd just left a less than perfect relationship and she was still in one. Over the years I came to realise where a lot of that passion and intensity came from. As the years passed by and the relationship deteriorated I let my love for this woman grow ever less, putting it in a compartment and trying to seal it off, lest I get too badly hurt. This, of course, increased the distance and the distancing behaviour, probably mutually. Eventually, after years of verbal and physical abuse, I had to leave.
I suppose it's one of the natural bits of egotism that we believe ourselves responsible for that which affects us, and I thought, when she 'met someone new' that her life would turn around and she'd shine. Not that lucky. I watched her slow and further decline into alcohol abuse and a girl 14 years my junior begin to look older and more drawn. The arguments continued with drunken phone rants and some psychological thrust and parry between us, where we both said some appalling things to each other. In between, a son struggling to come to terms with a Mother he loved yet who's behaviour he hated.
She talked often of ending it and referenced a nephew of mine who had killed himself some years previously. There was at least one overt 'attempt' that was more a statement of intent than a reality. Like most, I thought it was part of the psychological assault; 'real' suicides rarely advertise. So it was with some surprise that I took a phone call informing me that she had taken her own life.
I'm sure I'm not alone in this situation but there followed a week of confusion with a variety of emotions vying for the front seat to this final act. A woman I once loved so fiercely but had had those emotions washed away and replaced with sadness, disappointment, anger, confusion and rage. There's no rule book for this, we didn't have a 'What to do in the event of an ex-lover and Mother to your Son committing suicide' lesson in school, or life. What am I supposed to do with the conflicting feelings of love and regret vs. anger and despair. And yes, of course I said 'Why?' That's one of the few standards in this situation; could I/you/anyone have done more? No, of course we couldn't. If we'd been able to do that we would have done it.
I am lucky in having a Wife who is analytical enough to work this tangle out and to be able to take an objective view of what has happened, but she also has her contradictions to deal with.
If anyone reads this, and if they are unlucky enough to suffer a similar situation, be aware, your feelings are your feelings, embrace them and let them wash over you and through you. Don't put them to one side to fester and grow barbs. I mourn the bright faced woman I met and her love of all things natural, someone never happier than standing in a wood or on a fell top. I'm glad her demons are silenced and she is no longer in an internecine war with the world. I grieve for all who loved her and rarely, if ever, saw the monster she could become. You should do the same, there isn't a single emotion or reaction to have, no 'answer' to a question that doesn't actually exist; saying 'why' isn't for them, it's for us, for we shall never know.
This is the real legacy of the suicide; a void, a hole an on-going yearly reminder to ourselves of our possible shortcomings in keeping a loved one safe from harm. Tell yourself, and do it regularly; 'It's not my fault'. Death is too complex for such a flimsy and egotistical solution.
Suicide is very painful but it does herald great change for those left behind. Just make sure you remain just that, left behind.
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