With the 8th anniversary of Noah’s death this week, I’m reminded that one of his friends called him “a Bunsen burner of joy.” His wacky wit, zest for adventure, and big heart brought joy to a lot of people and certainly to us, his family. I’m so proud of him for touching the world in that way before joy deserted him near the end of his life.
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My husband and I never spent much time in the living
room until this pandemic year. It’s the most pleasant place in the house for
Zoom meetings and events. Wherever I sit, images of Noah hover over my shoulder
as I speak, sing, learn, pray, meditate, or catch up with friends and family. Noah
still takes up a lot of room in our lives and in our living room--photos of him
as a teen and young man; the big painted portrait by his cousin; two enlarged black and
white photos that he created in college; and a shrine with the scrapbook I made of his life for what would have been his 22nd
birthday.
I wish that memories of Noah took up similar space in
my daily thoughts but to my regret, that space diminishes with each passing
year. So I welcome the revival of memories around his death anniversary (or his
birthday or holidays or travels) that open up that space again in heart and mind.
Each passing year since the devastation of Noah’s suicide has opened up more
living room in my life, more space to breathe fully and seek joy.
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How I wish Noah had found a path to affirmation mantras
from yoga and meditation like “I am the light of my soul” and “I am enough.”
Surely he knew that along with his brother Ben, he was the light of our lives. And
more than enough.
To my fellow survivors: What kind of space does your lost one take up in your life these days? How much living room do you allow yourself as time moves on past the suicide?
Just 15 months after losing Anton I find it hard to imagine that there will come a day when he doesn't take up all of my mind and my living room, and almost impossible to think that I will ever feel joy, or be able to remember the joy that he embodied during his life without becoming distraught. I take comfort from reading your words and knowing that it is true for you Susan, thank you
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean -- when you are in the midst of such terrible grief, it is hard to imagine joy ever finding its way back to you. I used to be amazed at fellow survivors who could still laugh -- until I became one too in the goodness of time. Some spiritual teachings say that it is in giving full vent to difficult emotions that we clear the way to also experience joy, when it comes. Take heart.
Delete-Susan
Thanks you again Susan for your sharing your inner thoughts and insights. I still can't envisage a time when I can remember those happy times without distress. In recent years there had been fewer happy times for him but I never really believed this would happen even though he shared with me how he felt. My thoughts were preoccupied with Gareth in the years before his passing as they are now and I cannot see how this will ever be any different. This week is when the light change is obvious and our clocks go forward as we herald spring and the equinox today - all this light which still evades my soul. I have more moments of peace than last year and perhaps that peace will lay the foundation for joy in time. Hope that will apply to both of us Ligia as our grief is new and raw. I have now bought your book Susan - it is consoling and even practical when the mechanisms of my body and mind can only go through the motions of daily living. With much love Roslyn xx
ReplyDeleteVassiliki I tried to respond to your beautiful post as below from early March
ReplyDeleteVassiliki I have tried to reply 6 times - so I hope all my responses all a bit different don't appear at once. Thank you for the sharing this and Greek pessimism is a reminder of our mortality but also how we live on I feel in many ways. Yes dancing is therapeutic as Susan found 13 months after Noah's passing and no one can tell us how we grieve our boys Thank you, it is nice to see the greek script ( a few words I recognise from my Ancient Greek studies years ago but I couldn't begin to translate but I like to see it) Much love Roslyn xx
Dear Roslyn. Me being "Better late than never",I saw your reply only today,27 of April. Here in Greece it is Good
DeleteTuesday and Easter is on the air.
Love and greetings to you all, whenever you feel like pray for me just a bit, I am going through a difficult period.
"And death will be no more"
Susan, I continue to be amazed at the parallels between my son Kyle and your Noah. Joyous, full of life, a big heart and a wacky wit as well! It makes it all the more unbelievable that we mothers found ourselves without these beautiful boys. It has been just 3 months for us; Kyle still fills our living space and our emotional space. Photos, music, videos, memories, not to mention much of his bedroom still intact. But we are moving forward and doing our best to remember all the good times before his dark days. I just love the photo you shared of Noah - it made me smile. I have many photos like that of Kyle and am starting to be able to recall the joy of just being with him. I am blessed knowing that I will always have that.
ReplyDeleteSusan,
ReplyDeleteI hope you have survived this fateful day, I got through March 27th but as you have said in your early posting following the first anniversary this day is now worse than than any other day. Now the sting and pain of the day may punctuate happier joyful times, do I hope it does not hurt you, I don't know, do we still need to feel the sharp pain of grief more acutely on these days as time advances? With love to you and all of you who are just surviving and as the year has turned for me some days of numbness Ros
Hi Rozzy, I didn't realize your child's day is also in March. I share the heaviness of this month with you. Most survivors, including me, seem to find that what diminishes with time is not the grief itself but the intensity of it. Also, looking back, I now see the value of those numb days, hard as they were at the time -- giving mind and body a rest from the intensity of feeling. Take good care of yourself, Susan
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