What happens post-suicide

This is not going to be an easy-read post, and if the topic is disturbing to you, please do not continue. Here is a gif with a quokka for you.

Only 2% of people diagnosed with depression are ending their live with suicide. Those numbers are not particularly scary in our pandemic times. Would highlight though that the numbers reflect mortality for those receiving treatment, and there is a huge gender disparity.

In the beginning I wanted to write a text saying “if you are thinking that you are a burden and everyone will feel better if you die, then no”. But inciting additional guilt is not helpful. I think I just want to get out of my chest what happened after my father died. Because in case of a suicide everything falls apart. So

Someone finds the body. Probably the same person is going to call an ambulance. Ambulance comes with police and an undertaker. The last one is going to mess around and ask to sign all your property over in exchange to lacy napkins. Favorable credit options available. Police is going to shrug and leave. The ambulance at that point of time is also pretty much useless.

Depending on the local legislation police might can start a criminal case, initiate inspections and invite people to talk. At the same time somebody is going to call all the friends, colleagues and relatives to tell the news. And even if you are not getting into details, rumors are spreading fast. At some point somebody is going to pull you to the side and say: “That was a heart attack, that’s what we are going to tell the kids. And to the neighbors, right?”

Somebody is not going to believe and might go to a morgue to check. In our case that was my father’s farther. He was shown the strangulation mark. After that he went to my mom to discuss why has nobody warned him (we did) and why nobody ever asked him for help (we did). Then he tried to blame her in leading my farther to suicide, but luckily somebody mentioned that “there was another woman” and he let my mom be.

The undertaker is still not giving up. Maybe it is different in the big cities, but there are only two firms like that in our woods. And they fight like beasts. And all these napkins, artificial flowers, coffins, this is too surrealistic. You are there and you are totally messed up. A woman with soft happy voice is trying to convince you that orange lilies are the hit of the season. You’ll be the most fashionable at the cemetery. Pay attention to these pillows, local officials take only those.

During the funerals somebody is going to say “he just did not relax/drink enough”, “he could just come to my place to get some nice drinks and talk over”, “he should have gone to a church” and so on. There is going to be a bounty of those horrible word gems. At some point I asked my mom to give less details about his last months, because I couldn’t take it anymore. And somebody hissed at me “she has just lost her husband!”. Ok, these people see me once in three years, but I am not changing that much to confuse me for a stranger.

After the funerals people deal with remaining things. Read diaries, check e-mails, chats, etc. My mom still cannot get over what she found out. Now, four years late she finally went to a therapist. But after all what happened and what was uncovered, there were a lot of fighting. My mom’s and my dad’s families are not talking to each other. Once in a month I am calling everyone and tell the news. And then usually scream into the void.

It is going to take time to get the phone numbers, bank accounts and everything else sorted out. And every time you’ll need to explain what happened to strangers and get reminded again and again. Good if you can move out from the place where it happened. Not everyone can.

Also, people are going to have different opinions about whether to tell the reason of death or not. And every time you are talking to someone who was not there, you’ll feel like on a minefield.

Close friends and relative are going to feel guilt. I’ve received a lot of calls like “If only that time I…”. The only thing that saved me from that was the fact that I know what suicidal thoughts are. You are not blaming anyone at that point. You just want all this to end. No one is to blame, this just happened.

And all this lasts and lasts. And already for several years it is dragging the lives of a single family and we all need healing.

But it is mostly me who gets at lease some form of treatment.