Rings of Devastation (Thoughts on Suicide)

I think it's probably safe to say that most of us have at one time or another asked ourselves, "If I died, who would even miss me?"  I also believe that in every case the answer would be, "More people than you realize."

There's an episode of the television show "The Blacklist" in which the main character talks about a scene he once witnessed after a suicide bombing.  He describes it as a "perfect circle of death," with those closest to the bomber experiencing the greatest destruction and the circle expanding from there.  He then goes on to explain that it's the same with every suicide.  Each one leaves a ring of devastation including every person who has ever known you, with those who love you the very most experiencing the worst of the suffering.

In my lifetime, I've been included in several of these awful circles.  Some more closely to the center than others.  But each has affected me deeply.

When I was pretty young, my then teen-aged sister lost a very close friend.  I remember feeling confused at first.  It had never occurred to me before that incident that a person could take their own life.  The sadness set in moments later when I remembered that she had been at our house just days before.  I had sat on our couch with her and watched as she made a bead necklace for her sister who, she had explained to me, loved little handmade gifts.  How special that necklace must be to her sister now.

Just a little over a year ago, I lost a friend of mine.  I say friend because I love her dearly, although I'm sure she didn't know it.  The truth is that I had no idea she was struggling until she was gone.  That's the kind of friend I was.  I often still think of a day I was out walking by her home when she waved and called out to me through her front door.  I smiled and waved, but my own social awkwardness and anxiety kept me from anything more.  I realize that I could not have taken her demons away or changed the outcome of her pain, but perhaps I could have made that one day a little easier. (A good friend recently suggested that maybe I did make it better and didn't realize it, but perhaps I could have done more. Been less selfish.  Gone outside of my comfort zone to show that I cared.)  The guilt of that may always haunt me.

I currently find myself in a new, expanding ring.  We are losing a dear friend who has been very much like a part of the family this past year.  Over the last several months we have been middle-of-the-night texting buddies. (Lifelong insomnia + a nursing/teething infant = not much sleeping.)  She suffered with some sleep trouble as well, so if one of us was awake in the wee hours, we could text the other to see if she also happened to be up. Usually this was the case. There's something extra lonely about being unable to sleep in the middle of the night (when I was young I loved hearing the 2 a.m. train whistle, because it meant I wasn't the only one awake) and it was always comforting to get that message back that let me know I wasn't alone.

Last night I was lying awake and sent my last message to her... this time knowing I would get no reply. 

I have struggled my entire life with crippling anxiety and depression.  I get it.  I would never consider any of these individuals to be selfish.  We can never judge the intentions of others or what burdens they may be bearing.  But I would like to think that if each of them had known (and I hope they know now) how loved they were and how missed they are and will continue to be... it may have helped, at least in some small way.

Every person who is or was or will be on this Earth has a sphere of influence.  When they die, that sphere becomes a ring of devastation.  In cases of suicide, that circle is filled with survivors who experience incredible suffering, pain and guilt that they carry throughout their lives.  If you are in one of these rings, please know that your lost loved one would not want you to feel this way.

If you are wondering if you are loved and would be missed...
(and if you are reading this, I am within your sphere)
You are.  You would be.  So much more than you know.