Time doesn't heal

I think people use the saying "Time heals all wounds" too much.  It doesn't heal... it just takes away the sting. Wounds go away, but the bad ones, the ones that hurt the most, leave a scar.

Dawn's suicide left a lot of scars.

This past weekend was the Out of the Darkness Walk around Rockland Lake.  Frank Raso and his wife came up from Florida.  Karen, Nancy, Dana - they were all there.  Glenn Spiegelmen was there, so were neighbords and friends.  But this year was different.

This year I got my kids involved.  They helped register people, they walked, they worked at the fundraiser we had for our team.  They took on roles.

I want them to see what it is like helping people.  Not just donating money, but helping people.  I wanted them to hear the stories, and how people felt, how they still feel.  I wanted my kids to see that there is ALWAYS someone to talk to, no matter how bad it is.  I wanted them to see beyond my sadness.

I have had numerous people thank me for raising awareness of depression and suicide.  They tell me their story and I listen.  Sometimes I tell mine, but not always.

Nicole told me about 3 weeks before the walk that she didn't want to do it this year.  I said fine, but why?  She told me that she didn't want to help other people because nobody ever helped Aunt Dawn.  She asked why I didn't help Aunt Dawn... it hurt so bad to hear my daughter say those words.

I told her I ask myself that same thing all the time.  I told her that this is a sickness that you can't see.  I told her that Aunt Dawn would have wanted us to help other people, and remember her.

But what I couldn't tell Nicole was why I didn't help Dawn.  I still wish I had picked up the phone more.  I want to hear her voice.  I want to hear her laugh - her snort ;)  I want to see her sitting out by my parent's pool.

I don't tell my mom (or anyone) this, but I do not want to go to my mom's pool.  I think of Dawn when I am there.  And while I love remembering her, I still cry a lot.  And I don't want to do that to my mom.

Well, time doesn't heal.  Time takes away the sting but you are left with that scar.  That constant reminder of the pain and the suffering, and when you touch that scar you can feel it all over again.  The goal (I guess) is to embrace the scar.  To know that you are different because of it.  To make yourself stronger because of it.  To piece together the parts again, and move on, knowing it will never heal 100%.

But when you think about it, are we ever 100%?  Are we 100% of anything?

I loved my sister - I still do, and always will.

A good friend of mine told me she saw a medium who said that Dawn was at peace.  She was told that Dawn wanted to tell her loved ones that when they see a butterfly at the beach it is her.  She loved the beach...

About 1 1/2 months ago I was in Wildwood with my family.  A butterfly kept trying to land on me.  Finally Chip said that he heard somewhere that when a butterfly lands on you it is someone who passed trying to contact you.  After he said that I saw dozens of butterflies the remainder of our vacation.  And then this week hearing what my friend said - I know that was Dawn.  She LOVED the beach!  She LOVED the summer.  And she LOVED all of us.

And we ALL LOVED HER.

I am so touched by everyone coming out to our fundraiser event to raise money for our team Walkers with the Dawn.

It is hard to believe that two years ago Dawn was helping Chip plan my surprise 40th birthday party.  She had so much fun at the party!  And then a little over a month later, she left.

Since Dawn there have been 4 other suicides.  I don't blame her for that, but I wonder if people felt that if someone so beautiful, warm, friendly and seemingly happy thought this was the best way out ... well, you know what I mean.

I have considered putting together a book.  There have been so many letters left behind by people that have taken their lives.  What if we made a book with letters to those people that left us?  I might do this - I want to think about it more, but I might...

I think of her a lot.  Especially since I am involved in suicide prevention now.  But I know that I have already spoken to one woman who went through (and still battles with) deep depression, and she is going to join our team and walk with us :)  So maybe we can help one person, maybe two - maybe more.

I know Dawn would love that.

I miss her

Normal

I realized after Dawn died that the worst thing to say to someone after the death of someone they love is "eventually things will return to normal."

no - they never will

Normal is my family together.
Normal is my parents not losing a child.
Normal is my niece not struggling daily with drugs.
Normal is being able to pick up the phone and talk to my sister.

No, things will never go BACK to normal - there will only be a new normal.

So here is my new normal.  I cry when I am alone.  Stupid and sometimes silly things make me think of Dawn.  I get angry at my kids for fighting telling them they have to appreciate their brothers and sister and never take the relationship for granted (like I did).

Normal now is not knowing how my mom is doing, only that some days she is not good at all, some days she is horrible, and some days she puts on a happy face and goes about her life.  But she never has a great day.  Not anymore - that is her normal.

I can not sit back and not do anything.  I have always been like that.  Since I can't change the past, I have decided to work with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  I am the captain of the Out of the Darkness Walk in Dawn's memory.  And in June I will be put on the board for the foundation.  At least I am doing something positive and maybe can help save one person since I couldn't do anything to save Dawn.

There is never going to be a "back to normal".  Sure, you wake up and get ready for work, come home, go to the baseball and lax games, watch cheerleading, eat dinner, take out the dogs - but that is your day - not your normalcy.

I miss her a lot.  I still have so many questions that will never be answered.  Her kids are struggling and I can't change that or help.  I pray that she can help them.  Give them that feeling of a warm hug around them to tell them they will be ok.

I pray that my mom and dad are ok.  Dad keeps everything inside and acts like nothing is wrong but his health has suffered and he has aged so much in the past 1 1/2 years.  We all have.

I love Dawn - always will.  I just still don't understand...

...a year of numbness

People say that time heals - well, it doesn't heal everything.  It makes you realize things are never going to change.  It make syou take a step back and be more appreciative of every day - but it can't heal.
Over a year has passed since Dawn took her life.  I find times when I wnat to call her and ask for her advice on something and feel stupid when I realize I can't just pick up the phone.  Julie has gone through some ups and downs - I know how much she misses Dawn.  They were not just sisters they were best friends.  While I try to be there for Julie I am not Dawn and do not want to replace her. Julie and I have our own imperfect relationship.  She loves me and I love her - but I will never replace Dawn.
Dad is doing ok.  He is really stressed and it shows.  I am worried most about him.  He sees his role as having to take care of everyone and forgets about himself.  Mom gets mad that he goes golfing, but he needs that time outside the house - outside his head - where he turns off his phone and goes into his own world.  I get it...
Chip has been really good.  We have had our own problems, but we continue to work on "us".  My family knows they can always count on my husband for support and whatever they will need.  He has always been there for all of them and I love him for that.
Nicole still gets upset sometimes.  I never realized how hard she would take everything.  In August we took her to see a psychologist.  At the appointment she opened up that she had googled Patti and Allie's death and knew they didn't die of carbon monoxide poisoning.  She said she was mad that I had lied to her.
I explained that Patti (like Aunt Dawn) was sick.  I told her how much Patti loved Allie, and that moms don't do things like this - the sickness does it.
I think she understood... at least understood as well as a 9 year old could when looking at this tragedy.
As for my mom - she is so strong.  She goes about her day working a lot of hours to keep her busy.  She tries to hold it together, but she loses it sometimes and we all get it.  She misses her baby... I can't imagine the pain.
I worry about Julie a lot.  She acts like she has it all together, but I know she is hurting and angry and upset inside.  She just wont show it.  Instead she lashes out at people for no apparant reason - or sometimes there is a reason but instead of talking she yells and screams and curses.  It is hard to watch.
I wish she would talk to someone - someone who could make her feel better about herself and her life.  She does have a lot to be thankful for.  She has three beautiful children and a family that loves her.  But I know it is hard for her.
I was numb for a year.  I went through the motions of daily life smiling and driving the kids here and there.  I talked about my sister's death as if it were a story in a book - sometimes crying but only a few tears for a few seconds at a time.  Then when September came around I lost it.  I had been hospitalized 2 times over the past year for migraines, and on October 19th had to go to the ER again.  Hopefully they are under control now.
I talk to my sister sometimes when I am alone.  I hear a song and I think of her.  My sister Julie and Dawn's friend Sue and Christopher emptied Dawn's house - it sold.  They gave me a terracotta like set - a pitcher, teapot, ladel, dish and a few other pieces.  The night I put it out my dog Gunnar stodd in front of it just looking slightly off to the side of the large pitcher and kept barking.  I know Dawn was there that night.  I know that is where she watches over our family - especially Nicole.
Time doesn't heal, time teaches you that you have to find that new normal.  The pain never goes away, you just learn to accept the pain, not the loss.
I will always love my sister.