TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

 

10 years ago today, my Aunt Tawnia died. She committed suicide. In the garage of my home. I found her. Hanging.

 

Grief is such an interesting thing. It’s sort of like a fire. It can become all-encompassing. Suffocating. Raging on without permission. Smoldering. It burns. And it leaves it’s indelible mark on all that it touches.

 

There are the days when you can’t get out of bed. Where you would rather be dead than face the world. This is not weakness. This is your mind commanding your body to survive.

 

The mechanisms of survival are wide-ranging in a world where profound pain runs rampant.

 

So I survived. Merely survived…existed, for years. It was all I could do to hold on; lest I face a similar fate.

 

My rage, my anger, it came to a compromise with understanding and acceptance once I got a taste of the demons which my aunt may have been facing. Empathy is powerful.

 

It was 3 o’clock on a sunny, Monday afternoon. September 25, 2006. My aunt’s phone keeps going to voicemail. Mom’s working. Who’s gonna pick me up from school?

 

I just started the 10th grade a month prior after a less than stellar freshman year performance.

 

I was determined to turn it around. This was my year.

 

I call mom. “Aunt Tawnia’s not answering.” “I’m still at work. Can one of your friends give  you a ride if you give them gas money?” “I’ll Ask.”

 

“Mom, Taylor’s gonna take me home.”

 

Taylor was a junior. She was cool and she drove a BMW. She agreed to take me home.

 

When we pulled up to my mom’s house, I thought Taylor was just going to be dropping me off. Instead, she asked if I wanted to study together and I was just happy she was going to be coming in so I wouldn’t have to be home alone until mom got home. I hated being home alone. It creeped me out.

 

Taylor and I go inside and set our stuff down in the office. I offer her something to drink. She asks for a soda.

 

The office was connected to the kitchen which connected to the laundry room which then connected to the garage where the refrigerator with the sodas was.

 

I open the door connecting the laundry room to the garage.

 

I step down into the garage and open the refrigerator door which is directly to my left, against the wall.

 

The garage is dark.

 

I open the fridge and grab the sodas. I think they were orange. Or diet. Whatever.

 

I head back into the family office and hand Taylor her drink. We spend the next hour or so on Myspace. We hadn’t gotten any homework done yet.

 

Mom calls.

 

I tell her Taylor stayed to study.

 

Mom invites her to stay for dinner. Taylor Agrees. Mom was gonna make tacos. My favorite.

 

After spending a little more time on the internet, we decide to start getting some school work done.

 

But first, Taylor asks for another soda. She had finished hers.

 

I go to the garage a second time to get her another soda. This time, I accidentally ripped the box of sodas as I was trying to open it.

 

Sodas come rolling out all over the floor.

 

I get annoyed and crouch down to pick them up and put them back. The garage was dark. Just a dim light coming in from outside through the drapes over the windows and a glow coming from inside the open fridge.

 

The sodas rolled everywhere.

 

After I put the last one back, I stood up to inspect the ground and make sure I hadn’t missed one. As I turned around to head back inside the house, I caught a glimpse of something hanging from the ceiling.

 

Adrenaline.

 

Adrenaline.

 

Heart pounding.

 

I run inside screaming.

 

Taylor’s on the phone with someone.

 

She asks me what’s wrong.

 

I start laughing hysterically.

 

I can feel my blood pumping.

 

My heart is in overtime.

 

I’m laughing and crying simultaneously.

 

I think I’m going crazy.

 

I’m seeing things.

 

I’ve lost it.

 

I was sure of it.

 

She keeps asking what happened.

 

I tell her I think I’m going crazy.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I think there’s someone hanging in the garage, but I’m not sure if I’m just seeing things.”

 

“Oh. My. God. What are you talking about?”

 

She gets off the phone.

 

“Will you please come look with me?”

 

I’m shaking.

 

We walk to the laundry room.

 

I open the door leading to the garage and flip on the light switch.

 

We peer inside together.

 

My heart sinks.

 

And sinks.

 

And sinks some more.

 

My stomach hurts. Like I just got kicked.

 

It hurts to breathe.

 

I’m staring at the back of a woman’s body.

 

Who is this woman?

 

It takes a minute to register.

 

I couldn’t see her face.

 

It’s Aunt Tawnia.

 

I can tell from the flip flops dangling from her feet.

 

So many details.

 

The rope around her neck.

 

The broken crate she had stood on.

 

Her purple fists in a ball.

 

I run inside the house hysterical.

 

I’m crying. I’m screaming. I’m hyperventilating.

 

I’m in a fucking nightmare.

 

I call mom.

 

She answers.

 

I’m crying. I can’t talk.

 

She asks what’s wrong.

 

More sobbing.

 

She starts to get mad.

 

“GABY, WHAT’S WRONG!?”

 

I give the phone to Taylor to talk to her.

 

I physically can’t get the words out.

 

“There’s someone hanging in your garage and Gaby thinks it’s her aunt.”

 

Silence.

 

“Okay, I’m coming.”

 

Taylor and I sit in front of the house awaiting my mother’s arrival.

 

I’m too scared to be inside.

 

Mom gets home.

 

Her mini-van pulls up the driveway and I run up to her as she’s getting out of the car to give her a hug.

 

She pushes me aside and heads straight for the door.

 

Stone-faced.

 

I follow her inside crying.

 

She goes into the garage to look for herself.

 

I wait in the kitchen.

 

She comes in a minute later and collapses to the floor.

 

I’ve never seen mom cry like this before. My insides feel like they’re going to break with every shudder.

 

I feel powerless.

 

Watching my mom cry on the kitchen floor that day hurt more than seeing my aunt hanging from the wooden beams in my garage. My aunt was gone. But mom would have to bear this pain forever.

 

Selfish.

 

That was my initial thought.

 

HOW COULD YOU BE SO SELFISH?

 

Who was going to tell my cousins?

 

I guess Taylor’s not staying for dinner…

The fire department arrives.

 

They ask questions.

 

My high school boyfriend shows up.

 

He tries to comfort me.

 

God bless his heart.

 

Mom has to identify the body.

 

She has to go look her sister in the face. Lifeless.

 

I stay the night at Taylor’s.

 

I never go back to mom’s.

 

She moves to a new house a couple months later.

 

The damage has been done.

 

I cry everyday for years.

 

PTSD rears its ugly head.

 

I get flashbacks.

 

I see people hanging from the trees at night when I’m driving.

 

I sleep with all the lights on.

 

I avoid going into any garage.

 

Until I don’t.

 

Time has a way of healing things.

 

Families have a way of rebuilding.

 

Grief is a strange thing. It comes in waves.

 

Now the waves are light. The tide is low. The rip tide is gone.

 

This was the first anniversary of my Aunt’s death that I didn’t remember until someone reminded me.

 

I never thought this day would come.

 

Life is for the living.

 

Today, I am alive and well.

 

I am grateful.

 

I am empathetic.

 

I am compassionate.

 

I am forgiving.

 

I have forgiven you.

 

It only hurts when see my cousins’ faces.

 

They look so much like you.

 

They miss their mom.

 

I’m so lucky to have mine.

 

I no longer merely live to survive. I no longer merely exist. I thrive. I rise above.

 

Each day holds the promise of the possibility for something better than its predecessor, as long as you allow it.

 

Love and hope and forgiveness are forces that transcend fear and pain and grief.

 

Don’t ever give up.

 

 

(If you or someone you know struggles with suicidal thoughts, one resource is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255). The Lifeline is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The deaf and hard of hearing can contact the Lifeline via TTY at 1-800-799-4889. Suicide is never the answer.)