Finding Closure: A Journey Through Grief and Shame
Written on
Chapter 1: The Weight of Grief
Here I am, once again, in a moment of waiting… searching for an answer that may never arrive.
This scene repeats itself endlessly, only the attire changes with the seasons. I have lost count of how many weekends, Mondays, and Tuesdays I have found myself sitting—whether on the ground or in a snowbank, often shrouded in darkness, enveloped by silence.
The silence of the departed in this cemetery, at Andrea's grave. As a teenager, I was filled with shame and confusion, grappling with grief that felt both overwhelming and unexpressed. My sorrow was buried deep, leaving me feeling isolated, yearning for numbness…
Unfamiliar with the customs of the Jewish faith, I was bewildered by the swift burial and absence of a wake, caught in denial. This left me in a defensive stance, ready to protect Andrea, though there was no one to defend her against—my immediate family and friends were absent. Raised in a Catholic, Scots-Irish background, I felt torn.
The teachings I had absorbed during catechism felt at odds with my reality. I was angry with God, harboring resentment for a couple of years due to family illnesses and the injustices I witnessed while volunteering.
Initially, there was only a bright orange wooden marker at her grave. The headstone would come a year later during the Unveiling, coinciding with the first Yahrzeit—the anniversary of Andrea's passing.
I found myself sitting there, hoping against hope that this time, I might finally understand why.
Why you left this world…
Why you had said to me, just weeks before your departure, "Don’t ever disappear again, take off without warning... before you turn 16 and we finally have wheels!"
You chastised me for my unannounced trip to Vancouver.
I returned, apologized, and shared my reasons, burdened by shame for the pain I had caused you and others.
Four months have passed… My parents, at their wit’s end, took me back to Scotland, believing a change of scenery might help.
Instead, it merely provided me with new friends to drown my sorrows in. After six weeks, we returned to Canada, and I found myself back at your grave, feeling guilty for leaving you alone.
Eighteen months later, the first Yahrzeit has passed, and your headstone stands in place. You will not return.
I still come here, waiting for your answer. Ashamed to share my journey… Our friends have moved on, and I continue to linger…
Although my life has evolved, I carry the shame of still breathing while you are gone. There’s so much I wish to share with you. Only in my heart and mind can you hear my thoughts.
Fifty years have gone by…
I no longer haunt the cemetery. Life has taken over, and I have countless stories for another time. So many lessons learned.
Soon, I will return to honor you and express my gratitude—perhaps to metaphorically lay to rest the 20-year-old version of myself.
Many realizations have emerged, and at last, tears have been shed for this loss. Andrea, it took decades to come to terms with your absence. In silence, I suffered, unwilling to disclose my pain due to the stigma surrounding suicide and the shame I felt regarding my own thoughts.
Over the last ten years, I have learned to appreciate the gift you left me—though it is the best and worst gift imaginable.
As a survivor of suicide loss, I have grasped the profound pain and grief that accompany such a passing. I have approached the edge of despair more times than I care to recount. Your death serves as a stark reminder of the anguish I could never impose on my family, either by blood or by heart.
Thank you, Andrea, for giving me the strength to continue. Thank you.
The lessons I've absorbed and the insights I have gained are priceless.
I want to share my reflections on shame—a feeling I believe should be reserved for those who harm others intentionally.
SHAME is the enemy of progress. It stifles excitement, halts achievement, and extinguishes dreams.
SHAME fuels the vicious inner dialogue that keeps you isolated and small.
SHAME takes relentlessly, leaving you an empty shell.
SHAME is the most insidious monster, lurking in the shadows, its face never truly seen.
©2023 Elaine Lindsay