My Loss Story & How I Picked up the Leftover Pieces...
Saturday, my life was normal. The very next day, Sunday, August 7, 2016, my normal was devastated; shattered beyond recognition. From that day forward, my life would be measured in 'before' and ‘after’. My oldest son, Alex, had been home from college for five weeks. He was 21, an incoming Junior, and was living away from home full-time. We were lucky that summer because the restaurant that he worked at closed for two months, and he chose to come home for most of that time. We loved having him home just as much as he seemed to love being there.
That past semester, Alex had struggled a bit, as I think many college students do at this place in life when 'things' often becomes more stressful. He had graduated with an advanced diploma from high school and was now attending a rigorous academic college. He was in a fraternity and began living in their off-campus house by his second year, where he had also taken on a leadership position. He had a serious girlfriend for a year but by January, they had called it off. His grades took a hit from having so much on his plate and his mental health followed suit. He saw someone at the school counseling center a time or two, but they were overloaded so his visits were too few, too far between and not productive. Though he had many friends, he didn’t like to ‘burden’ anyone and often wouldn't reach out. He preferred to be the one he ping others. He and I talked regularly and yet now I see he must have kept much of what he was going through largely from me as well. Still, by summer's end, he seemed to be doing well, even by his own account.
On Friday, July 29th, after over 5 weeks at home, I helped Alex pack up his car to head back to college. It was just me, him and his beloved 'girl' Harper (his 2-year-old pup). We laughed and joked as he gave me a big hug and kiss followed by “Don’t cry mom, I will be home in 2 weeks for Nic's birthday.” Though we did text a few more times during the week, that day would be the last time we spoke. Alex drove away that day, waving and smiling, with his whole future ahead of him. I was already looking forward to that next visit in just two weeks ...
It wasn't to be...just 8 days after Alex returned to school, my youngest son Parker would get a call that would put him standing in front of me struggling to say the words “Alex is dead mom.” Those words will forever ring in a hollow place just beyond my comprehension. You see, hearing it and comprehending it are two very different things -- Alex had died by suicide. Life as our family knew it ended in those moments. My heart lay in shattered pieces all around me.
I am still unsure how, and there were (many) times I doubted it could happen, but I survived. Somehow, we have all survived. I have learned that traumatic loss by suicide changes us…on a cellular level, deep inside. We do not "get over" this, yet we can learn to move forward - bringing our child (or loved one) with us. Life will forever be different, but it can be (a new version of) good again.
On that August 7 in 2016, I became a "survivor mom". Deciding (eventually) to start the work of picking up my leftover pieces, was beyond hard, so very lonely and required many intentional choices. And, I am still a "work in progress" as they say. However, with a lot of hard work, finding tools and heaps of support, I have learned to live successfully alongside my grief - most of the time anyway!
A few years ago, after looking back at how hard my own journey had been the first four years, and not wanting others to struggle as I had to to simply find resources and community, I knew I had to DO something. It became my heart's mission is to create a community of comfort, connection, and healing - specifically for grievers who have lost someone to suicide. "The Leftover Pieces; Suicide Loss Conversations" Podcast was created directly from that motivation.
I became a persistent, consistent champion in having meaningful conversations around suicide, mental health, trauma and grief. Now, I still produce this weekly "say-it-outloud" style podcast, but it has grown into more. You see, I discovered three common needs in all of the moms I spoke with... the need for resources (at the time of loss & beyond), the need for connection, and the need to ensure that their child is remembered. So now I also facilitate an entire online support community, provide resources and have even designed a Legacy project to highlight and honor our child's life. I am also an author, a certified Master Grief Companion, and a trauma-informed healer.
It is in all of these spaces that I offer support to fellow grieving moms' so that they too may find meaning, and even happiness once again. Yet, despite all of this, I am still, and will always be, a grieving mom too, so you will get the real deal and the real me, no 'sugar-coating' or over-promising in my world. I do offer genuine love, compassion, kindness, knowledge and a safe space for your shattered heart.
While nothing about this is easy, simple, or quick I do believe any mom can survive, find hope, and move into a healing space just as I have. I know how lonely this is, but you do not have to be alone. I am here. I hope we talk soon. ... Melissa
Meet Melissa
Saturday, my life was normal. The very next day, Sunday, August 7, 2016, my normal was devastated; shattered beyond recognition. From that day forward, my life would be measured in 'before' and ‘after’. My oldest son, my middle child, Alex, had been home from college for five weeks. He was 21, an incoming Junior, and was living away from home fulltime, but we were lucky that summer because the restaurant that he worked at closed for two months, and he chose to come home.
That Spring semester, Alex had struggled a bit, as I think many college students do. He graduated with an advanced diploma from high school and was now attending a rigorous academic college. He was in a fraternity and living in their off-campus house by his second year, where he had also taken on a leadership position. He had a serious girlfriend for a year but in January they had called it off. His grades took a hit from having so much on his plate and his mental health followed suit. He saw someone at the school counseling center, but they were overloaded so his visits weren’t productive. He tried telling some of his frat brothers of his struggles. Though he had many friends, and was always there for them, he didn’t like to ‘burden’ anyone so he kept his own struggles inside. He and I talked regularly but he kept his feeling largely from me as well. However, by summer's end, he seemed to be doing well, even by his own account.
On Friday, July 29th, after over 5 weeks at home, I helped Alex pack up his car to head back to college. It was just me, him and his beloved 'girl' Harper (his 2 year old Carolina Dog). We laughed and joked as he gave me a big hug and kiss followed by “Don’t cry mom, I will be home in 2 weeks for Nic's birthday.” That would be the last time we spoke, though we did text a few more times that week. Alex drove away that day, waving and smiling, with his whole future ahead of him. Only eight days later, my youngest son Parker would get a call that would put him standing in front of me struggling to say the words “Alex is dead mom.” Those words will forever ring in a hollow place just beyond my comprehension … life as our family knew it ended in those moments. My heart lay in shattered pieces all around me.
I am still unsure how, and there were times I doubted it could happen, but I survived. Somehow, we have all survived. I have learned that traumatic loss changes us… on a cellular level deep inside. It will not be easy, but I believe you too can survive. We are in this together fellow griever.
You can email me at [email protected]
