Stories by divanurse (2 matches)

From My Son and Me

Four years ago, my 26 year-old son took his life. I visit him often at the cemetery and always bring fresh flowers to place at his grave. After a series of visits, I noticed that the woman next to him never has any flowers. So on my last visit, I brought flowers and placed them at her grave site, from my son and me.

3574 Reads

The Grief of Loss and the Gift of Listening

Today and every morning I wake up and think about the son that is no longer physically present in my life.

It is a mourning sickness that does not ever go away. No prayers, no bargaining with God, no amount of walking, talking to the psychiatrist, medication or hugging my dog eases the suffering.

Some days are easier than others. I am so tired of my coworkers telling me "to get over it, this will make you stronger."   Today, I called one of the members in the Survivors of Suicide group and we cried together.

I have been told tears are cleansing so I suppose it was a kindness that we cried and listened to each other. What a lovely gift to lean on one another. Sometimes just listening to someone's troubles is a gift in itself.

 

1513 Reads



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