For those left behind

Dear loved one,

Right now, you are in a place that you never wanted to be and most likely, never considered to be a possibility. You feel stunned, shocked, numb, grief-stricken, devastated, and more.

I know how you feel. No, not exactly how you feel because we are all unique individuals. But I definitely understand what it is to lose a close family member in suicide. You see, without any warning, my strong, capable husband took his own life.

If I could, I would give you all kinds of pretty words and counsel—do anything I could to take your pain away, answer your questions, and make you feel better. But I can’t.

I do want you to know that, with God’s grace, time, and your own decision to seek patient healing, it won’t always be this way.

Eventually, it is going to be all right. Not because what happened is in the least bit right, because it isn’t. What happened was awful, shattering, and completely wrong. But, as you lean into God’s embrace and let His grace flow over you, in time, your healing will come.

For the longest time, pain was all that I could see. It was through much battling that I learned that grief cannot be rushed.

In his book, A Grief Observed, author C. S. Lewis wrote, “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”

You will find this is true. But you will also find that, in every landscape, God is always there.

I do not have all the answers to the questions you have, but there are some things that I wish someone had told me. Such as, I wish someone would have told me that suicide survivors suffer a deeper, longer, and more complicated form of grief than most other losses by death and that I was going to have to be patient—very patient—with the healing process.

It is likely that, at the time, I would not have appreciated it. In my fresh onset of grief, all I really wanted was for the pain to go away. But, had I known, chances are I wouldn’t have wondered later why it was taking me so long to “get over it.”

One does not “get over” some things in life, one gets through them. But, my friend, I want you to know that, with God’s help, it is possible to live through this pain and, in the end, come out stronger and more compassionate.

You will go through a myriad of emotions and questions that will sometimes cycle in and out of your heart at breakneck speed and, at other times, pile up and threaten to bury you.

No matter what others do, chances are that, at some point, you will feel alone, ashamed, rejected, guilty, and more. You will ask why you couldn’t stop it? Why you didn’t know? And why you weren’t enough to live for? These feelings and questions will have their time to be dealt with, but that time doesn’t have to be right now.

It will be tempting to cling to people for human help, running to them in constant distress. Yes, family and friends have their place, and you need them but, you will find your sweetest refuge in the shadow of the cross.

Your strength will come by staying vertical. That is—directing your gaze upward to God, rather than outward to men.

There is really only One who understands agony, tears, pain, rejection, and betrayal. That person is Jesus. He gets it. So, run to the cross, kneel there, lift your heart and grieve fully for as long and often as it takes. Let the Man of Sorrows hold you (Isaiah 53).

Psalm 147:3 promises that our God does heal broken hearts. He does bind up our wounds. I know this is true because He has done that for me.

So, stay vertical.

If you are interested, I would also like to share some things with you that have helped me in my healing journey. Please don’t rush to this—for now, let yourself be held. But, when you are ready, you will find this information in the article “For those left behind—helps for healing.”

In closing, it would be my sacred privilege to hold you up in prayer during your grief. If you are comfortable with that, please email me your name at melissa@melissadawnbaker.com. All will be kept confidential.

My prayers will be continually offered for all who read this page. Please remember that you are not alone during this dark time. The One who carried all of our pain to the cross is with us in the house.