CHAPTER FOUR

    "It seems so unreal-Suicide happens to other people, not me!"

Matt's Story
By Jean Hall

        It was May 17, 1992. We went to church that Sunday afternoon. We've always attended church together. We were very active in the LDS Church. My husband Bill, and our sons Jim, Mike, Jason, and Matthew went out after church, returning home later that evening. Matt was the youngest son. It was school the next day so I went to bed with everyone else. I was very tired so they all came into my room for goodnight hugs and kisses. When I realized that Matt had not come in I hollered to him "Matt, I love you, Good night." I don't know if he heard me. Later that night I heard a noise, and went outside to investigate. I noticed that Mike's truck was gone. I went in the house to see if he had gone out but Mike was there. He got up and we drove around to see if we could find his truck. As we were driving home, we spotted the truck parked in a vacant lot across the street from Matt's best friend's house next to some construction equipment. There was a 22 rifle in it, a spotlight, and some bullets on the seat, but we didn't see anyone around. There were no keys in the truck, so we drove home to get a set. We learned later that Matt and Nathaniel were hiding behind the equipment. 
        When we got home I went to Matt's room. The light was on and he was gone. I was amazed. I just couldn't believe that he would or could take the truck. I didn't think he could drive it. He was very small for his age. We decided he was probably with his 
friend Nathaniel, who is a lot taller than Matt and could drive the truck. My husband and I went back to the vacant lot. The truck was gone. We drove around town and in the fields searching. Bill and I went in one car, Mike and Jim went in another. Jason stayed home with our daughter, 11 year old Colleen. We searched for hours. As the night wore on, I became very frightened. At 4:00 a.m., I took Bill home so that he could get some sleep before work. The rest of us kept going over and over every street in town and then the fields. 
        I was frantic. I had a very bad feeling about Matt. This was so unlike him and I just could not understand what was wrong. We continued searching until 7:00 a.m. By this time I was pretty sure that something terrible had happened. We started calling Matt's friends to see if he was with any of them. The whole situation was just unreal. I was beginning to fall apart. Even now, writing this brings back the extreme fear I felt that night. 
        We were still searching when Jim found us and told us Matt had shown up at home. We went straight home. As I got out of the car, I had a sick feeling come over me. Jim said that he had yelled at Matt and sent him to his room. When I went into his room, the window was open and the screen was pushed out. Matt was gone. We assumed that he was upset and was afraid of getting in trouble, so he had taken off on foot. We searched again for Matt. We decided to come home, thinking that he would eventually return. We felt like the crisis was over as far as his safety was concerned. 
        Jim went to work and Mike and Jason went downstairs to sleep. Bill was getting ready for work. Mike came upstairs to say he had heard a noise in the closet under the stairs. It was where the guns were stored. Mike stayed upstairs with me and Bill went to check. Something told me not to go with him. The next thing I remember is Bill running up the stairs screaming, "Call!!! 911!!! Matt has been shot!!!" I don't remember much other than falling to the floor. I was in shock. I couldn't believe it. The house seemed to come alive with people everywhere. I wanted to be with Matt, but I couldn't make myself go downstairs. I remember a police officer telling me that Matt was still alive and the ambulance was taking him. 
        Matt died on the way to the hospital. He had been shot in his forehead on the right side. Even as I write this, it seems so unreal to me. This happens to other people, not me. I sincerely thought the Lord would never let me lose a child, especially to suicide. I had many trials as a child and young woman, and I honestly believed that losing a child was something the Lord would not make me endure. I was wrong. 
        The next few days were so hectic. The house was filled with people. I can't really remember too much. I just remember the pain, a pain so intense that I have not yet found a way to deal with it when it comes back. I still couldn't believe Matt was dead. 
        Matthew died May 18, 1992, a Monday morning. I didn't see him until Wednesday afternoon. When I saw him at the mortuary he looked like he was sleeping. The bullet hole was so small that Bill had to show me where it was. He was a beautiful child with blond hair. For some reason, I felt much better after I saw and touched him. I spent a lot of time with Matt over the next day and a half but I still had difficulty accepting that it was my son in the casket. As I looked at Matt, I thought about my own death. I wanted to be with him more than anything, but I felt guilty about that because I love my husband and other children too. I felt torn between Matt in the spirit world and my family here on earth. 
        The funeral was beautiful. The speakers and the music gave us great peace and I felt Matt's spirit there. School was let out for the funeral. Matt was dressed in his black dress pants and his favorite green turtleneck and sweater. You rarely saw Matt without his hat. He had it on when he shot himself. It had a few blood spots on it so I washed it and put it on him. I also put his pocketknife in his pocket. Now when I think of Matt in his casket, I feel that he is warm and comfortable and safe. I get comfort even now from knowing I took care of him like he would have wanted. 
        To lose a child is the worst thing that can happen to a mother, but to lose a child to suicide is even more difficult. There are so many questions. I don't know if Matt killed himself or if it was an accident. Only God really knows. There was no note. Matt seemed to me to have been a happy, loved, and well-adjusted 14-year-old. But of course, I'm his mother. The events of the night before Matt's death make his death look like suicide, but I just don't know. Even though it has been several years since his death, I still don't want to believe that he shot himself. I want very much to believe that it was an accident. I've finally concluded that it wouldn't ease the pain if I did know. Matthew would still be dead and we would still have this gaping hole in our family. 
        After the funeral, I felt a need to touch him, to smell him, and to see him walking up the road from school. I thought often to myself, "If I could have just one more touch." The first few months after his death I cried constantly. I was totally useless as a wife or mother. The most difficult thing for me to deal with was not having Matthew home with us. I missed his awful looking bathrobe and the Legos spread over the floor. I couldn't yell at him to turn his radio off at night. Sometimes I even thought I saw him. But then reality would return and drown me in pain. At the time I thought this empty place could never be filled. 
        I visited Matt's grave every day. I knew in my heart, that it was just his body in the casket and he was in the spirit world. My beliefs in the spirit world and the resurrection gave me some peace. Yet, I wondered why I felt such a strong need to seek Matt in the 
cemetery if he really wasn't there. Nonetheless, I found peace there. It just seemed to be the only physical part of him that I had left. 
        I still visit his grave. It's there that I can touch the ground under which he lies. I can touch his name on the granite headstone. I get a great deal of comfort from caring for his grave. I keep the flowers, the grass, and the headstone clean and looking good. We planted a pine tree next to his headstone. His father and I will be buried on one side of him and his grandparents will be on the other side. He is close to his great grandparents and his great-great grandparents. My mother died at my birth at age 22. My father died about 12 years ago. I believe that Matt has met them in the spirit world and that he is with them. I believe that he is not alone and they are loving him and taking care of him for me until I can be with him again. I could not endure the pain without this knowledge. The smell of him eventually left his room and his clothes. I wish it had lingered longer. I still occasionally look for Matt, just as if nothing ever happened and believe I have felt him near at times and that things are okay for him. 
        I have always had a great sense of peace when it comes to Matthew's spiritual status. I don't believe that his intent was to die. I believe he was physically and emotionally exhausted. Perhaps, he was not rational. And he was only a child. I have pleaded and prayed for answers and this is the answer and peace I continue to receive. I know that our Father is a loving father who judges us much more wisely than we judge ourselves. He, and only He, knew Matt's intent when he took his life. His father in Heaven loves him more than I love him and, I believe, welcomed him home. 

"I was in shock. I couldn't believe my only son was dead."

DAN RAY ADAMS
By Maxine Zawodniak

        Dan was an only child of a very unhappy marriage that ended in divorce when he was about eleven. I remarried when he was 12. After a difficult adjustment for 6 months, Dan and his stepfather built a relationship of value. When his stepfather joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints we were a more united family.
        Dan was a good kid, a good teen, and a fine young man. He served a mission, got married in the temple, and promptly divorced. After his divorce, he went to live with his biological father in California. Life there was easy. He could come and go as he pleased with no accountability but he was still a fine young man. He never got into drugs, smoking, or much drinking. His friends were usually students or others he met through acting groups. He was an excellent actor and received many awards at college.
        His father died in 1985. A girlfriend moved in with Dan. That lasted a year and a half, then ended very abruptly, and he was devastated again. He went to many counseling groups to help him come to terms with his broken relationships. Two years later he began living with a third young woman. About this time, he became more irritated and agitated. He relied a lot on his girlfriend. After a few months, she left him and he was despondent again. He returned to group therapy and we agreed to pay for a psychiatrist. We told him that this was a time to turn over a new leaf and deal with what was bothering him. He called me often and I went to stay with him for a while. I could see that he was grieving deeply. I didn't know what to say except to give him love and encouragement. At times, I wanted to chastise him for living the way he did and not attending church.
        He was going to the psychiatrist once a week and we told him to go more often if he needed it. He was 39 years old at this time. He said the psychiatrist would only give him some light sleeping pills but he always felt better when he talked to him. I asked him to insist on getting an antidepressant.
        On Sunday he came to me and told me that he wanted to go see the bishop right then. He wanted to get his life straightened out and get back to church. We went to the bishop's counselor because the bishop was out of town. They talked for over an hour. Dan was very open with him. He received a blessing and President Kimball's book, The Miracle of Forgiveness. He also tried to contact the singles organization. He said, "Mom, I promise I am going to get back to church and turn my life around."
        I left on Wednesday. I called him when I got home, but there was no answer. I called several times about ten minutes apart. About 1:00 p.m. my phone rang. The voice said, "Maxine, this is Stump [Dan's next?door neighbor]. I didn't want to have to tell you this, but Danny shot himself."
        I heard the words. I repeated them in my mind. Finally I said, "Oh no, no!! Dear God, no! What happened?" I was in shock. I couldn't believe my only son was dead. I walked in circles, rubbing my hands, and saying over and over, "Dan is dead! Dan is dead!" But I didn't cry, couldn't cry, did not really believe what I was hearing. Soon the bishop and one of his counselors and my friends came. I just sat there and said, "I don't know why I can't feel." 
        When John walked in with tears coming down his face, my whole body, especially my chest, tightened up and my voice box closed. It was like a vise was on my voice box and a lead weight was on my chest. It seemed that any minute I would wake up and find that I had been dreaming. 
        Some of the decisions I made then, I now regret. I was so concerned that I might see some evidence of his gunshot wound, I was afraid to go look right at him or touch him. (He had put the gun in his mouth.) I wish I had touched him. I was sitting really close to him in a chair at the viewing. I was constantly talking to myself: "Look at his hands. They're not stiff, but just lying at his sides. Look at his eyes. Did they glue them? Why did they comb his hair back up over his head? Is that because there was a wound in his head? His hair looks so red. Oh, Baby, you did not have to do that. There is always a way out." I wanted him to know how sorry I was for not helping him more. 
        Then the questions without answers began. "What if I had never left him?" "What if I had called his doctor and told him to give him the medication?" " What if I had taken over and insisted he just come home with me until he was better?" 
        We took care of the house in California and disposed of Dan's belongings. After the funeral, Dan's body was sent to Utah to be buried. He was buried on December 20, 1990 on a cold and snowy day. We had a graveside service. I still couldn't believe that my son was in that box. I felt guilty. I reviewed all the times I didn't treat him right, or times I would spank him as a kid, or yell at him. I just knew if I hadn't done that, he would still be here. I reviewed our conversations over the eight days I was there. I kept telling myself, "You knew, you knew this would happen, but you didn't follow through and take charge." The lead weight was still in my chest and I was hoarse. I would cry some and then I would walk the floor. Mostly the pressure inside was unbearable. 
        Finally I decided if I were going to be able to breathe, I would need a blessing to remove the terrible heaviness from my chest. I called my home teacher, Mike, who was in the bishopric and he gave me a blessing. I didn't know if I totally believed in blessings, but this time I just asked him to have this heaviness removed from me. I left it up to God. Mike told me that God didn't want me to suffer this way, nor did my son. The awful weight lifted from my chest. I was still grieving, but the heaviness and pressure had gone.
        I decided that I needed some counseling. The psychologist and my physician prescribed antidepressants. Although I was still walking in fog, it became a little easier to handle each day. I began to eat and sleep, which helped very much. My husband and I drew together. All we had was each other, so we needed to be able to comfort one another. 
        I searched the scriptures for any information on suicide. I read Elder Bruce R. McConkie's Mormon Doctrine. I prayed. I cried to the Lord and explained that it wasn't Dan's fault, but mine and I should be punished instead if there was a punishment. I read every book on near?death experiences I could find. I found much solace in most of them.
        People from California who knew Dan, told me "Dan was not himself, and he would not have done this if he had been." When going through Dan's records, I found a psychiatric evaluation dated 18 months before his death. It said that Dan was extremely depressed and his self-esteem was very, very low. He was having trouble then, and no one, not even he, tried to correct it. I think he could cope as long as someone was there to comfort him and ease his financial worries. When Helen, his girlfriend, decided to leave, it was a fatal blow.
        Knowing that Heavenly Father is loving and forgiving helped me. I had believed from childhood that anyone who committed suicide was doomed to hell. I couldn't shake this for a long time even though another family we knew had suffered the same thing. They were close friends of a member of the First Presidency. He had told them that their son was not in hell. He made it clear that the Church does not judge suicide victims. He said that we never know the state of mind or the physical problems these people have; God was loving and kind and would take all things into consideration. 
        I know that Dan was not well. Suicide was out of character for him. After returning from his mission in 1974, he attended BYU. Many nights he sat in his room and cried. I can see now that he carried depression for almost twenty years. I cannot believe that if my child came to me and I knew that he was suffering as Dan did that I would ever reject him. Dan was God's child and I cannot believe God or Jesus would want him to fail. I believe that Dan will be given opportunities to work and advance. He believed in God and Jesus Christ. He was just sick. If a child breaks a leg, we take him to the doctor to set his leg and give him a pain pill. If our brains or emotions are sick, we can have help and medication to alleviate the pain. There should be no stigma against seeking treatment for a mental illness. 
        I still have moments when I remember talking with Dan the last days of his life, and I cry because I feel that I let him down. Then other days I can look at his picture and feel no pain. Then I feel guilty for feeling nothing. I ask the Lord at times about this, and the thought that comes is, "Didn't I speak peace to your mind?"
        God's love for us was manifested in a comforting spiritual experience some months later. A young mother in our ward was terminally ill with cancer and the day before she died I had a strong impression I should go see her. She had been in and out of consciousness. When she awoke, she said: "Oh, Maxine, I prayed you would come. I saw your son Dan. He told me to tell you he was okay but you need to let him go. He said people may be hampered in their progress on the other side when the family will not relinquish their grief." Chastened but comforted, John and I walked to the cemetery that afternoon and told Dan we loved him and missed him but we could let him move on with his life in the spirit world. We were at peace. 
        I find that I am very compassionate with anyone who has lost a child of any age. I am not nearly as afraid to die or even talk about my death. I don't know if I have grown spiritually or not. I know that there is a God. I know that there is life after death. I know there was life before we came here because I have had the blessing of remembering it. On one occasion, the Prophet Joseph Smith made the following declaration: 

When you climb up a ladder, you must begin at the bottom, and ascend step by step until you arrive at the top; and so it is with the principles of the Gospel -- you must begin with the first, and go on until you learn all the principles of exaltation; but it will be a great while after you have passed through the veil before you will have learned them. It is not all to be comprehended in the world; it will be a great work to learn our salvation and exaltation even beyond the grave. Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 348 ©2000 Intellectual Reserve Inc.)

UNDERSTANDING THE HEALING PROCESS: DENIAL AND SHOCK

        Denial and shock are usually the first reactions in the grieving process. When you first hear of the suicide shock typically occurs. Shock is a form of denial. You may experience shortness of breath, tightness in the throat, a need to sigh, muscular limpness, and loss of appetite. As illustrated in the stories above, the shock wears off, the physical symptoms lose their intensity and the survivor begins to absorb a little more of reality. 
        Those who have experienced the suicide of a family member have described it as: a "bad dream", "nightmare", "unreal", or "It happens to other people, not me." It is extremely difficult to struggle through the questions that may never be answered in this earth life. Because you are bewildered by what has happened, you search for reasons. Perhaps a suicide note may help interpret what the person was thinking before the suicide. Yet the painful questions remain: "Why did she do it?" "Was he angry with me?" 
        As discussed earlier, we do have some clues about why people choose suicide. Suicide is often the response to some kind of loss, to real or perceived failure, to physical, psychological, or spiritual pain. The person's problem becomes the only thing that exists, and he or she cannot conceive that life will ever become any better. Part of the healing process is learning to live with unanswered questions. You must gradually let go of the agonizing questions, accept what has happened, and go on living.
        Another aspect of denial is the stigma attached to suicide. It is seen by many as something that happens to very dysfunctional or "bad" families. In the LDS culture, some believe that a person who commits suicide will be damned with no hope of salvation. This makes it even more difficult to face the fact that a suicide has occurred. Survivors hope that the medical report was a mistake, that there was an accident, or that the person died of a heart attack. In many cases, there is not enough evidence to resolve the issue completely and the resulting uncertainty prolongs the healing process.
        Survivors may avoid discussing the cause of death or actively disguise it. They may feel that denying the suicide will protect the memory of the dead person. Denial is also a way to avoid letting others know that there may have been troubles in the family. To admit suicide took place is to expose personal agonies and failures, imagined or otherwise. 
        It is common for survivors to want to touch and see the fatal wound or the specific location of the suicide to confirm the reality of their loved one's death.
        In a similar way, you may have an overwhelming desire to see your loved one in the casket, to touch the body, to see the wounds. You may go frequently to an empty bedroom just to make sure he or she is not there. Like the mother in the story above, there is a need to see, touch, and feel some things in order to come to terms with reality. 
        Although a painful phase, denial and shock perform a healthy function. It allows the slow assimilation of loss. It insulates against the jarring impact of suddenly losing someone who has been a significant part of your life. Nevertheless, feelings of denial will eventually pass and you will gradually face reality.
        Sometimes friends and family think it is best for you to face reality, now! They want you to accept the fact that your loved has killed himself or herself. They want you to become involved in all of the things you did before the death. They may think that enough time has passed. They love you and it is difficult for them to watch you experience so much pain and suffering that is a part of the grieving process. Recovery of course, is personal and you must decide on your own pace. Take your time accepting reality. Be patient with yourself.
        Denial and shock take time to subside. The good news is that tremendous growth and acceptance will come as you accept the truth. Eventually these feelings will pass and you will begin to face the reality of your loss. As you allow time for terrible memories to play their role, the hurt becomes less intense, and good memories begin to surface again.
        Remember, out of the darkness and horror of Calvary came the voice of the Lamb, saying, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." (Luke 23:46.) The dark was no longer dark, for He was with his Father. He had come from God and to God He had returned. 

HELPS FOR THE HEALING PROCESSES:

        Confronting denial is an important step of recovery. Answering the following questions has been found helpful to those facing the reality of a suicide. The first question focuses on the individual committing the suicide. 

¨ "It is hard to believe he or she killed himself or herself because . . ." 

A survivor might respond by saying, "She had problems but life wasn't that bad for her. She had a job . . . " or "He couldn't have killed himself. It must have been an accident because . . ."

¨ The second question is related to the survivors. It is: "I believed it couldn't happen to me and my family because . . . A survivor might answer with "I've been active in the Church my whole life, bad things shouldn't happen to me . . . " Or "We've been a close family, it could never happen. We love one another . . ."

List as many responses as possible to these two statements. These questions could be answered privately in writing or by talking with a trusted friend.