Healing is Heavy

Chis and Ben in Sunset Beach during sunrise

I’ve been feeling the weight of my suicide survivor grief lately and I just had to put my load down and walk away for a bit. I’ve been doing so well and come so far, but I’m tired. I’m tired of being strong and kinda tired of being happy. I think I need to feel sad for a little while.

I recently had the opportunity to take my son to the beach with my mom. I haven’t been to the beach since I went with my sister when my brother died. My son has been asking to go to the beach for the past year and I finally felt like it was time. I’m so proud of my mom for joining us.

I have a thing every time I go to the beach; I have to get up to watch the sunrise. It’s not an option, there is something inside of me that draws me there. And thankfully, my sidekick is always a willing participant to get up early with mom. So off we went, every morning we were there. It was so beautiful. But then I remembered the last time I watched the sunrise over the beach with Ben, Chris was with us.

We took a family trip to the beach a few years ago and Chris was more than happy to indulge my need to see the sunrise. So the three of us trotted down to the beach to witness a gorgeous sunrise. We talked, we laughed and we enjoyed our time together. Ben will never remember that time with uncle Chris as he was 4.

I can see why Chris chose the beach to take his last breath. I will never understand why he chose to take his life, but I do understand why he chose the ocean. As much as I hate sand, riptides, sharks, and pretty much everything at ocean beaches, I am still drawn to it.

I’m drawn to watch the sun as she kisses the night goodbye and rises to share her beauty with us. We rest assured knowing that she will always be there to give us her light and warmth without expecting anything in return.

And then there’s the moon. We take him for granted a lot of the time. We forget how much he can light up the night when he is full but how dark the night is when he’s not. He needs the sun, as she gives him light and yet he knows that she is always going to be the brightest star in our Sky. He’s not a star and he knows it. But every now and then he gets to feel like one when he is the one lighting up our Sky.

I think it’s fitting that Chris chose the night. He was a moon who never quite found his star. He thought he did, and he did everything to let her shine. He depended on her for his light. But she was a solar flare, only pretending to be a star. And when he realized what she was it broke him. He had so much darkness and he was afraid that without her light he had no hope.

That’s the thing with moons; they need stars to show them how to shine.

So for now, I just need to be sad until I’m ready to not be. It’s not really a feeling that can be articulated. It just is.