Holding On and Letting Go

Today’s blog post shares Lisa Chakerian’s first person account of recovering from the tragic loss of her son to suicide. It’s a Life Story that no one would ever choose, but it overflows with honesty and opens a window into hope.

 

Nathan has been gone ten years.

In the early hours of that first day, it suddenly occurred to me that I really could die of grief.

It scared me. In that moment, I made up my mind that I wouldn’t let that happen. I would cling to God with all my might and live, and not let the darkness have me too.

The first five years were desolate and dark, but I held on to life. I cried, searched my soul and  reviewed the past. I became numb to my feelings. I stumbled over words trying to tell my friends about it. Some friends let me go, others held on. If I met someone new, I could be felled by a simple question: “How many kids do you have?”

I found Alliance of Hope, an organization that assists suicide loss survivors. I read about others like me and their healing process. I read every book on suicide that I could get my hands on. I went to therapy. I joined a support group.

Everything helped a little, nothing helped a lot. But I kept trying to heal.

It took a while. For a couple of years, I blamed myself for Nathan’s suicide, thinking I had failed at my main job as a mom—keeping my child from harm. But eventually reason prevailed. Of course I had made mistakes along the way, but responsible for his suicide? No. Nathan was 23 years old. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, he wouldn’t take his medication, and he refused to go to therapy. I couldn’t force him, no one could.

Then that thing I feared for so long happened. I feared it, but that didn’t make it my fault.

I began to let go of blaming myself. And I let go of blaming others too.

And then I had a dream. In the dream I saw an enormous, brilliantly-colored butterfly flexing its  wings on the wall of my room. I watched it in wonder until it let go and flew away. I woke up that morning feeling at peace for the first time since Nathan died. I remembered the dream so vividly that I looked up the symbolism of the butterfly. I learned it can represent spiritual rebirth, transformation, angels, or even the Holy Spirit. This particular butterfly was predominantly orange, which means to “stay positive and reconnect with joy.” I held on to that dream—all of its implications—and looked for butterflies in my yard, at the park, wherever I went. I bought butterfly things for my house.

Then one day I laughed at something funny on TV. I hadn’t laughed in so long it surprised me, sounded unfamiliar. And I realized I was emerging like a butterfly from a lonely, dark place. Instead of holding on to the familiarity of the darkness, I chose to keep walking toward joy. I let go of many things that at one time seemed important. I stopped trying to be—I don’t know—Martha Stewart? Super Woman? I began to appreciate simple things.

Eventually, I let go of the butterfly too. I set it free.

Years went by, and one day I realized that I hadn’t thought of Nathan in a while. On days when I did think of him, I held on to the sweet memories and I let the scary ones go. It’s not that I “moved on.” That overused cliché sounds so cold. It’s more like I took him back into myself, back where he started, back where I kept the idea of him safe in my heart. I keep him to myself now, where both of us are safe from all the negative “voices” that might criticize either one of us. We travel forward, but we go together, holding on to the present moment, the gift of each day, holding on to love, holding on to life, holding on to joy.

I no longer talk about this experience much. But I hope sharing it encourages someone else on their own difficult journey. Hang on to the Light, to God. The only way through it is to just go through it. Keep marching forward as best you can, making every effort to heal. After all, you are not alone.

As the Bible says, “Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid nor be dismayed. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)