Life after suicide...Everyday is a second chance.

It was a surprise the day my husband came to visit me at my hospital placement.  I had just been allocated a labouring woman to support for the shift, when a knock at the door was followed by, "Your husband is here to see you." At first I thought the midwife was speaking to the woman and had got the room mixed up.

As I walked out the room and seen Darren standing there, I knew something serious had happened. "Has something happened to the kids? Is everyone ok?"

"You're dad is dead and it looks like he done it himself. You're mum found him."

I don't remember much after that. It was a bit of a blur. I must have spoken to my mum at some point and arranged to collect 2 of my sisters. I remember telling them the news, it was horrible. I don't think I done a very good job of it. I hope I haven't traumatised them.

We drove 3 hours back to our parents home, apart from it no longer belonged to our dad. His belongings remained inside, but his room was all bolted up, like a crime scene from NCIS. We had so many questions, but not one answer.

We cried, we laughed. We sobbed, we fought. So many emotions flying around the house. Unsure what to say, trying to create answers to the questions that were unanswerable. Not even the police could tell us anything until the post mortem was complete. That's the thing about an unexpected death at the weekend, everything is delayed until normal service resumes on the Monday.  You are left...wondering...

I'm not sure anyone slept the first night. My mum and I sat in the living room, trying to make sense of what was going on. What position was she in now? Would everything be taken care of?

"What's that noise?"

It was an alarm...coming from down the hall, from the bedroom that was bolted up.  It was like another kick in the gut, a reminder that my dad should still be here, but he wasn't.  We called the police to come and take the phone away that continued to alarm. Dad hadn't thought of that before he took his life. He seemed to have thought of everything else though.

Once the Procurator Fiscal was satisfied that no-one else was involved in the crime, we were able to enter the room where it happened. I found the paperwork that I needed to make the phone calls.

"I'm calling to cancel my father's telephone account. He passed away 3 days ago."

"I'm sorry, I need to speak to the account holder in order to cancel the account" said the call handler.

They didn't seem to get it. 

"The account holder is dead, you can't speak to him." 

The conversation went back and forth like this, until we agreed I would send in the death certificate.  In the end, we needed about 9 copies of the death certificate to sort everything out, who would have thought? Not all companies were this bad, some offered counselling services to support us with grieving, others didn't want to keep me on the phone for very long and were extremely helpful.  I appreciated those phone calls, a little bit of empathy goes a long way.

The biggest task was having to identify the body.  I had no idea what to expect. It was extremely formal. It was at that moment, when the curtains were pulled back, that I knew my dad was at peace. I had never seen him look so peaceful.

We'll never know why my dad took his own life, there was no note left for us with an explanation.  It didn't surprise me though, I always had a feeling that life wasn't for him. He wanted to be put to sleep at 40, apparently life goes downhill after that.

I learned many things from this experience. Everyone deals with the aftermath of suicide differently and not one way is better than another, there is no right or wrong way to deal with making sense of it all. Here is a great website to help you a little along the way.

Life for the survivors of suicide is not easy.  There is so much that you just don't appreciate, until it happens to you. Each year of my dad's death, I openly speak about suicide to raise awareness of it's existence.  I make no apologies for it. 

My greatest strength came from my belief in life after death. Our Mormon view of eternal life has kept me strong and allowed me to keep going. I don't know what will happen with my dad, as suicide is considered a sin.  What I do know, is that the God I believe in is understanding, loving and just. My dad is in a place of healing, away from living the life with a schizoid personality disorder.  It all made sense when the GP informed us of this diagnosis (28 years previously.)  If only we knew when it mattered the most.

We are approaching the 5th anniversary of my dad's death. We will never know the exact date of death, but what I do know is that there are still far too many suicides happening every day in this country. Poor mental health is hugely problematic within our society. We need to beat the stigma and talk about it more.  If you know anyone who is experiencing poor mental health, know where to turn. Scottish Association for Mental Health (SAMH) has amazing information and resources, use them! You may be the one to save a life.

I am grateful for my second chance...everyday!

Graeme Gall

1964-2011

"A step dad is so much more than the average father, because he chose to love me when he did not have to" - Til we meet again xxx