What If I…

On February 16, 2016 in horrific, tragic fashion I became a Suicide Loss Survivor. I was 52 years old and had never lost anyone very close to me except my grandparents who passed at 89 and 96. Up until that day, I still had my parents, siblings, children, extended family and my friends who had faced serious health challenges were all still here.

John loved Gospel…especially this particular song…

As you get older, you start becoming grateful every day as you see more around you suffering so I did have the feeling a shoe was going to drop…just never like this.

Not only was I now in the category of a survivor, I also was in the smaller category of finding him, John, my boyfriend of 7 years.

I was lucky to find a therapist who specialized in that category and offered a sliding scale for payment - the only one in LA who would - overnight, I needed to be treated for PTSD.

I was on the scene - the first to know - the neighbor next door called 911 after she heard me scream.

After the EMS arrived, I called his ex-wife, Linda. She lived close and was there in what seemed like seconds. We wept together on the sofa and my heart broke into more pieces as she bravely left to tell their adult children what had happened. We found out that day that we are kindred spirits and we reach out on the anniversary at 7am every year.

Pastor Bob

Then I called Pastor Bob and he walked me through what was going to happen on the phone. Imagine being THAT person - the one you call because he’ll know what to do when a person you love takes his life - because he’s been through it before and his profession is to be there for you! What a tremendous burden of sorrow he carried on his shoulders.

He passed away this year and his kindness and support during that time will be etched in my memory forever!

Pastor Bob calmly told me that it was now a crime scene, the police have to do their job and ask the questions that will be painful to answer. Then, they would let me go home, I have no legal authority, I’m the girlfriend - his children would have to make all the decisions - just devastating any way you look at it.

I went through the questions with the police as if trapped in a horrible movie.

“Where were you?” “I was asleep”

“How did you find him?” “I woke up and he wasn’t here. I thought maybe he was putting flyers on cars promoting his new coffee shop but saw his wallet and phone on the counter. I went out the door {of his apartment} and found him in the stairwell”

“Why is the butcher knife out?” “I used that to cut him down and put him on the floor…”

“How did you do that?” “I don’t know…I thought I could save him…I didn’t want anyone to see him that way…”

The young policeman was stoic until he realized he had met John at the coffee shop a week earlier and had a great long conversation with him about roasting coffee beans. I could see his face change as he realized that nice, charismatic man with the piercing blue eyes was the same man in the hallway. “I met him…I talked to him…He was a really great guy!”

The second policeman was very matter of fact “Well, he was a 61 year old man who made a decision” was his assessment and I had compassion for that because I knew this was not an uncommon scene for him and that broke another piece of my heart.

The third policeman... I'm not sure was a policeman. He had a uniform but he was removed - with us but not with us. Nobody talked to him and he stood in the corner by one of John's big plants with his hands clasped in front of him and listened as I answered all the questions.

The first two policemen were called out into the hallway by the fireman and I was alone with the third. I was mumbling to myself, saying things like “What if I could have done something, what if I had gotten up earlier, what if I had called 911 last night when John had the panic attack” - the shock was starting to wear off.

He walked over to me, he leaned over the coffee table and looked in my eyes and said…

“I heard you talking to your Pastor, I am a man of Faith, God is walking with you every step of the way.”

It didn't quite register what he said but I nodded. Then he raised his voice a little and said sternly…

“Do you hear me? God is walking with you every step of the way!”

I felt a warm feeling like a blanket over my shoulders.

“I understand” I think…I was strangely calm…

The other policemen came back in and he stepped back into the corner. They asked me more questions. Then I called my son to pick me up because they said I could go.

The quiet policeman then walked over to me put his arm around me and walked me out the door. My choices were passing John's body to the right or walking down the stairwell where I found him to the left and I chose the latter.

As we walked down the stairs I was thinking…

“Is this God walking with me every step of the way?... If He got that message to me so quickly then I must not have made an unforgivable mistake with one of his beloved children.”

That thought has helped me every moment of every day since because… the uncontrollable roller coaster ride of a suicide loss survivor is more painful, dramatic and terrifying than anything I would wish on anyone.

At my son’s car the policeman hugged me, turned me into my son’s arms and left. As we drove home I looked out the window at the people walking their dogs, driving to work, getting coffee - no idea what just happened to me - life hadn’t screeched to a stop for them and then the weeping began.

“You can't fix someone's suicide, you're stuck with it” - Dr. Jordan Peterson

To this day I still ask myself …

What if I questioned the medication he was put on in January.

What if I had really told him the coffee shop was a bad idea.

What if I had been more supportive and listened more.

What if I had insisted he go to AA meetings and not go sober on his own.

But then God gives me relief and reminds me

I had encouraged him to see doctors and they had prescribed what they thought was best for him - I’m not a doctor.

I helped him arrange to enter the 30 day rehab facility - he was supposed to check in at 9:30 that morning.

I had spent all of the last five days helping him with the grand opening of his coffee shop, listening to him panic over how much money he spent and what a big mistake it was, reassuring him that everything would be fine, showing him how all the people that showed up at the opening wanted him to succeed, telling him how delicious the coffee was that he roasted himself.

I told him over and over how we all loved him.

So the “what if I” will never go away, but I know now it won’t come as frequently. I must live with the fact that I will always wish I had done something differently.

After the roller coaster rides now, I always end with this.

“I wish I could have gone into his brain and rewired it so that he stayed with us, but I just don't have that power and God is helping me live with that.”

If you know someone who is a suicide loss survivor please reach out and check in with them. Do not think that bringing up their loved one is going to make them sad... You're not reminding them, believe me, they're thinking about them all day long! They want you to remember them. But Remember Too that they need their grief witnessed.

It was a horrible day - Listen and show you care - find them a therapist!

Rest in Peace John Marshall Fuller - We Miss You - You are Loved and Never Forgotten

December 26, 2015