25 May 2008

Suicide, The Formalities of Death - Part 8

If you haven't read Parts 1 - 7, you can find them here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7

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*WARNING* Parts of this story are quite graphic and may be disturbing to some of you.

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The next days were truly lived on auto-pilot. There were funeral arrangements to be made, obituaries to write and a decision as to whether “A” would be buried or cremated. There was a condo that no one had been in for two days. There was a kitten locked in the bathroom. There was so much more to get through.


When I left the hospital with my parents, we went straight to the condo. My kitten, Scrappy, had been locked in the bathroom for two days. Although she had food and water, I needed to make sure she was alright. We got to the door and it was sealed with yellow crime scene tape. I couldn't go into my own home until the police had finished their investigation. I lost it – again – in the middle of the hallway. I couldn't stand the thought of losing Scrappy - hadn't I lost enough already? We headed back to the hotel where I contacted the police department. They would release the crime scene status of the condo within 4 hours.

We returned to the condo later that night. My parents tried to keep me from going in, but I wouldn't listen. There was something drawing me back there – unfinished business maybe? The last time I was there things were frantic. I needed to find some peace with that space. I walked in the door and the first thing that his me was the smell of dried blood ... and then I saw it. A large pool, right where “A” had been sitting. There hadn't been much blood visible when I found him – it had all pooled beneath him. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I sat in the hallway, against the wall, in a fetal position. It was too much.

My parents took care of Scrappy and we headed back to the hotel where I would write an obituary for my husband.
I took care of the formalities of death. I arranged for “A” to be cremated and for a non-traditional funeral. We would have a small, private room at the cremation center where anyone who wanted to speak, could. I asked that, instead of flowers, donations be made to the National Suicide Hotline. I found a poem that I would read:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there.
I do not die.

~ Mary Elizabeth Frye (1904-2004)


During the days before the funeral, it was decided that I would move back to Washington with my mother. I didn't want that – I just wanted to stay where I was, go back to work, pretend like none of this happened. My parents wouldn't allow it. Along with “A”'s family, my parents packed up what they knew would fit in the back of my Isuzu pick-up. My father was tasked with driving the truck back to Washington. There was much left behind – packed up or thrown away. I still don't know who decided what to keep or what happened to what was left behind.

After the funeral, we decided that we would sprinkle “A”'s ashes at Como Park. It was a favorite place of his as a child and seemed a fitting tribute for his remains. I was amazed at how heavy the small cardboard box of ashes was, and overwhelmed by the fact that what was once my husband was now a plastic bag full of gray ashes stuffed into a cardboard box. “A”'s mother, father, little brother and I ventured into Como Park on a blustery, January day in Minnesota and we spread his ashes on the shore of the lake. We left him there, finally at peace.

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Tomorrow I will post an Epilogue of sorts, hopefully answering most of the questions you might still have about how I got from there to here, as well as explaining the ramifications of my actions prior to the suicide. I'll also give you an opportunity to ask any questions you might still have.

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17 comments:

Christo Gonzales said...

ok....

Ken said...

I have nothing to ask Dana!
I'm listening still!

As American as Apple Pie said...

I can imagine your grief but cannot fathom what going back to the condo was like. I'm anxious to read how you life got from there to here. You truly are a remarkable woman.

Jay said...

Having been through this myself, I don't have any questions either. Just been fascinated and heart-broken by your experience.

Jeff B said...

Still reading...still in awe of your resiliance.

Peace to you my friend.

buffalodick said...

Cremation was probably a good thing to do.. I associate it with freedom of Earthly pains and worries. I plan to be cremated when the real me goes somewhere else- wherever that is....
I hope your postings about this have done their job- freeing you from some of the pain and guilt you probably have felt over the years..

tt said...

I can't imagine even thinking of asking you questions about this. You've already poured out your soul...
I don't think I'll ever understand your strength. At least I hope I never do.
All I can do...right now...is shake my head and sigh heavily.
I wish you 'enough'........... peace and sunshine days to fill your heart forever.

Christo Gonzales said...

my dad wants to be cremated...but I want fruit seeds in my naked body buried in the earth in new mexico where I grew up and a tree sprouts reminding all of me.

no casket only a burlap sack.

Insane Mama said...

wow, thanks for sharing... this is an eye opening story. I agree on the cremation, it was the best things to do and I WILL be cremated also

Karen said...

Once again, I am so sorry you had to go through this. This is a heart wrenching story.

Schmoop said...

I hope this has been cathartic for you. Cheers Dana.

Dana said...

DB, yes, it's finally over!

Micky, hopefully the epilogue will make things more clear.

Apple, the condo is another vivid memory that I've not been able to stuff down far enough to never have to see it again.

Dana said...

Jay, one of the things I've realized in this process is just how many people have been through similar situations. I'm really not special.

Jeff, it is amazing what we can do when tasked with what seems impossible to overcome.

Buff, I feel confident that cremation was the way to do.

Dana said...

tt, I hope you never have to draw on that strength either, but I have no doubt you could!

DB, I like that plan!

Insane, hopefully the story helps someone.

Dana said...

Karen, in some ways it was a good thing. It gave me perspective that has helped me through some difficult times.

Matt-Man, I'm not sure what it was for me, but I am glad I've finished.

Knight said...

I think you chose a really wonderful poem.

Unknown said...

I’m back to catch up (and finish up) reading. Now, on to the next part.