Memories...

“I don’t judge people on their worse mistakes” - Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow, Avengers Endgame

A friend of mine recently visited New York City on June 25th and celebrated “Bourdain Day”. This was Anthony Bourdain’s birthday. She told me that it was announced by fellow chefs, who wanted to set aside a time to remember his life. She took the opportunity to visit the places he visited, try the restaurants he recommended. She was a huge fan of Mr Bourdain and was sad when he passed away, and she was pleased to have a way to remember him in life. It reminded me of the quote above from the latest avengers movie (don’t worry - it isn’t a spoiler). And recently, I have been thinking a lot about what happens if someone takes his/her own life. 

It is always so confusing for me when this happens, and I know that it can be a confusing time for those of us close to someone who takes their life, or even for those of us who admire them. Over the past few years, there have been a few “high profile” people who have taken their own lives, and these situations always leave more questions than answers, as we seek to understand what happened. I have personally known people who have taken their own life, and a recent event has caused me to think deeply about how my reaction has been to such tragedies. Over the last few years, the stories of people who have taken their own lives have really touched me deeply. I have wanted for some time to be able to express into words how wounded I feel when someone feels so lost and hopeless that this is their only option. I have battled internally with the opinions that I have heard emerging after someone has publicly taken their own life. Is it lazy? Or selfish?  Is it an unforgiveable sin?

I have come to the conclusion that people can be angry when someone takes their own life, and they want to find a justification. I hear people make statements like “it is the most selfish thing someone can do!” Or “He/she had everything! What did he/she have to be depressed about?” People want to understand. And it is hard to understand how people can feel so alone, so isolated. How mental illness can warp a person’s thoughts around how loved and needed they are in the world, what solutions may be available to them. We imagine that we know how we would act or react if we battled mental illness, or situations that seemed impossible to escape. However, I truly believe that none of us know what we are capable of, in the wrong circumstance. None of us know how truly powerful or resilient we could be, and on the flip side, none of us know what mistakes we could make, or how a situation could take us to a breaking point.

But what saddens me worst of all is - how people who take their own lives sometimes disappear. How their memory can be erased by their last final act. How they are only remembered and judged for the mistake they made on their worst day. I think about those people I know who are no longer with us, because of the manner in which they left. How her smile may be forgotten, or his laugh. His love for people, or her ability to keep her family connected. How that little boy who always ran and never walked, or that mother who made dresses for her children would only be remembered for the thing they did at the moment when they were at their lowest. And so today as I write, I feel called to say (to everyone including myself) - honor their memories. 

Because I can understand that if a person does the unthinkable, it may be easier for their loved ones to obliterate their memories, rather than being plagued by the conversations they had with that person, wondering if they could have prevented it. I understand that sometimes they want to forget. That the blame that they take on themselves may be a heavy burden to carry. I can understand wanting to protect her children from feeling responsible - as children often do when a parent struggles. I can see how a close friend or spouse would play those last conversations over and over in their mind, and how forgetting may be kinder than remembering.

But I also think of that little girl or boy, that mother, that friend - and how I can still treasure the memories, and hope that those memories can unite us loved ones. There are so many ways that we can treasure those memories. We can celebrate their birthday or a day that was special to them by doing an activity that they loved. We can speak about my fond memories of them, and perhaps even look at old pictures.

I hope that by treasuring those memories, we can have more love and more empathy for ourselves, for those in our midst who are struggling. I would hope that it would break the stigma, so that those people who may be feeling hopeless might open up, rather than hide it for fear of being judged. And I would like to hope that somewhere, somehow, they can finally feel the love and the joy that they couldn’t feel in life, and that rather than resting in shame, they can rest in that love and peace.

So on this day, I choose to remember the good things about those I know who have taken their lives. I choose to honor their memories. And if you want to do the same, I would love it if you could share any memories of your loved ones with me - no matter how they left this earth.

May they sleep in peace.

I send you big love from a small island.