in the wake of suicide

It is impossible to work in the field of clinical psychology and not encounter suicide. Particularly in crisis work, treating suicidal patients is inevitable. And yet it leaves with you a feeling that never becomes familiar. A feeling of emptiness, a blank hole staring back at you from some unknown place.

In approximately 95% of attempted suicide cases, it is theoretically possible to successfully treat the patient and hopefully keep him/her alive. But there is that small minority, those patients that have become so utterly desperate and hopeless about life that they cannot be saved. They cannot be helped. Death is the only solution they can find, and the loved ones are left to mourn the loss of someone whose only peace could be found through taking his/her own life.

Death is terrifying and tragic in all its forms. But suicide is perhaps one of the most difficult forms of death with which to cope. The questions that can never be answered, the helplessness and guilt experienced by those still living on this earth. It is a brutal confrontation that is forced upon us, reminding us all of our human mortality and the devastation that death leaves in its wake.

I attended a memorial service this afternoon, a service to honor a woman who tragically ended her own life last week. I watched her children speak, listened to their voices raw with grief, holding back tears for the loss of the mama that brought them so many moments of love and happiness throughout her years. As the music played, I watched pictures of a vibrant young woman flash across the screen. Pictures that captured her own moments of happiness, a life filled with love and faith, and eventually a battle lost in the war of living. I searched her eyes, wondering about the fear and desperation and hopelessness that washed over her in the last days of her life. I hugged her son, in awe and admiration of the strength with which he continued to stand. Of the conviction with which he spoke of God's love and His plan for all of us. Of the dedication in his words, the courage in his determination, the purpose that he has been able to find in the midst of tragedy. And as I listened to the words and prayers and music, as I searched the eyes of this woman who continues to live only in hearts and pictures and Heaven, as I hugged this strong and courageous young man...I was reminded of mortality, of the brevity of our time here on earth, and of the purpose of my own life in working with patients that battle suicidal urges on a daily basis.

I cannot save every patient. Indeed, I cannot even help every patient. But this is my mission in life...that in working with these patients, that I may do my best to bring guidance and comfort and hope for a brighter tomorrow. And most importantly...to be with them, to sit with them, to hold their pain if only for a moment, and to accept that whether life or death eventually wins the battle, that they may know that they have not fought the battle alone.

As I continue to dedicate my life's work to those who battle suicide, may the grace of God and the hope to continue living find its way into their hearts. And in those times when the battle is lost, may comfort and peace be found for those who grieve and mourn.

Life is short and it offers no guarantees for ourselves or loved ones. May we live each day with an abundance of love and happiness and hope.