I’ve gone back and forth on this one. I want to write. I need to write. I have written, privately, but I want to share.
I want to share my Sunday afternoon, four hours of respite care for my soul. See, I spent those hours with two other Suicide Moms. Survivor Moms. Suicide Survivor Moms. I know—a bit liberal with my capitalization there, but these are titles. Big, important, leaden titles. Hence, the big letters.
These two women, whose lives deserve capitalization, have been friends for years. I’d met one of the moms, S (5.5 years on this path), but only briefly; M (18 years on this path) and I were strangers. S and I arrived a few minutes ahead of M, and fell into conversation of suicide, mental illness, and child loss. M greeted both of us with hugs, immediately and literally welcoming me to the fold.
This time together—two old friends and one new—was unlike anything I’ve experienced. Cooper’s death has left me more socially-awkward than ever before, but that wasn’t an issue. The getting-to-know-you threads were woven into the bulkier wool of the day; we started with the tough stuff. Our hearts, our very souls, the boulders we each carry—the things we do not and will not share—sat with us on the bench, exposed. The October wind riffled our souls; our tears wet the boulders; the sun warmed our bare and bruised hearts. Our lamentations whispered through the prairie grass, drifted on milkweed fluff, settled beyond the path.
We told about our boys, about their minds and mindsets, about our own. About our dreams for them that turned into dreams of them. For the first time since Cooper died, I didn’t filter my words. We’ve all three known gritty details of unrequested lives; we can’t scare each other. There’s peace in the freedom to just talk—to share and ask and say. To be honest without worrying who will be hurt by what we know. What we carry.
Those were sacred hours in sacred space and I’ve been processing ever since. I’m trying to reconcile strength, fragility, and grace coexisting. Fragility? Nailed it. Strength? Some days. Not today. Grace? Needs work. Seems to take time.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to hold all three in my heart.
Strength.
Fragility.
Grace.
Woods Writes 