This post marks the 100th story that Code Green has shared since it was founded in March of 2014. This post was originally submitted as an In Memoriam by the father of someone who died by suicide. Someone whose suicide was the primary catalyst for the founding of Code Green. Since we do not typically share In Memoriam posts on Facebook, we elected to share it as a story, since that is truly what it is. The story of the aftermath of a suicide on a father and a family.
For 25 years I lived the perfect life. I married my high school sweetheart. I have three wonderful kids; a boy and two girls. I have a job that is relevant and fulfills me. We have no significant money problems or family problems. We are all wired a bit tightly, very competitive and a bit emotional. But these traits have always brought a lot more fun and excitement than baggage and heartache. We have water fights in the house, every birthday ends with a cake fight, we enjoy spit ball fights, we love spending time at the motocross track, we love spending time at the beach and hiking even if through Mosquito Alley. There was always lots of love, fun, excitement and laughter. And we laughed at ourselves and our antics. More than once I heard “you guys are crazy.”
My son was 26 on April 29, 2014. He was a paramedic, a motocross racer, a brother, a son, a friend, a smartass, a lover, a competitor, a teddy bear, a healer. Everyone agrees he was the “life of the party”. He struggled like most young adults venturing out into the world on their own for the first time. His struggles manifested as anxiety and mild depression. At times the anxiety and depression seemed to get the better of him but he always seemed to be moving upward and forward. It all seemed like the “normal” transition to adulthood and there were many signs of improvement and growth.
After graduating from the Paramedicine program at Central Washington University and successfully testing to obtain his national paramedic license he landed his dream job as a Paramedic in Spokane, WA. This was his dream and fulfilled all parts of his personality – he was able to engage the technical side of his brain, he was able to help people who truly needed help and he worked with a group of likeminded smartass people. I was so proud of him and happy for him.
Shortly after landing his dream job he fell in love; also a paramedic in Spokane.
He was making enough money to be able to afford to buy his dream truck – a Toyota Tacoma.
He loved camping and drinks after work with his co-workers.
He talked constantly of these things – his job, his girl, his truck, his co-workers and friends.
On March 12, 2014 our fairy tale ended. My first born, my son – died by suicide. Our world crashed. I still remember praying that morning – praying someone was wrong, praying for God to welcome my son home, praying for the strength to tell my wife and daughters – prayer – and bottomless emptiness.
Suicide is such an ugly thing. Some who know what happened in our family can no longer make eye contact with me. People who commit suicide are selfish cowards. People who commit suicide have some unknown and incurable disease that must be contagious. People who commit suicide are twisted and troubled. Our society shuns people who talk about suicide. It’s a terrifying word. Our society shuns people who use the words “mental health” or “depression” or “PTSD”. Our society has created and fostered shame and self-loathing if we even broach the topic of “mental health”. Your job may be at risk if you seek help. You may be passed up for promotion or worse terminated because you are “unstable”. But you see my son wasn’t unstable, crazy or cowardly. He didn’t suffer from some incurable contagious disease. He is a lover, a competitor, a jokester, a son, a brother, a nephew, a grandson, a racer, a hero. He loved spending time with his family and with young children. He loved animals. Without exception everyone we met after his passing commented on his great smile and laugh and how those two things always lit up the room. He just needed to be able to seek professional help without feeling shame and without worrying about losing his dream job.
So why would I share my personal story for the whole world to see? Does my son sound like a coward? Does our family sound dysfunctional and unproductive? Does the family I described sound like what you associate with suicide? I am betting not and that’s why I am sharing our story. I am not ashamed of my son, I am not ashamed of his story and I am not ashamed of our family. I share our story with the hope that it will enable us to reach just one person and change their mind. I share our story in the hope that it will make a small dent in the stigma we have created that surrounds the words “mental health”.
What have we learned?
Let me start by saying the learning process is just beginning. I know that if I rewrote this letter once a month for the next ten years the list of things we have learned will change each month. We are not the same people we were prior to March 12th and we will never be the same people. It is not possible. In fact we are not the same people we were just one week ago. Everyone is grieving and recovering at their own rate. We have a new rule in our house – never apologize. Never apologize for grieving over the passing of our son/brother. It is unavoidably hard. The grief is a reminder that the our love is real, that our memories are real. Embrace the grief.
Second, we need to let go of our own perceptions and change how we listen. I have tried to always treat people according to their true potential not according to their current circumstance or state of mind. My belief is that all people are good and can achieve more than even they themselves dream possible of themselves. We only need to increase our expectations of ourselves to improve our performance. How does this relate? We have to learn to communicate differently. When I talked to my son I seldom addressed his pain or self-loathing directly. Instead I would point out his accomplishments, change the subject, ignore the comment or address it in only a superficial manner. In hindsight he was reaching out and needed to talk about his demons. I couldn’t relate to the depth of his fears and self-loathing because they were so much unlike the person I know. You see my son was my hero. I simply could not understand him not loving himself; it literally didn’t compute for me. So instead of really listening I tried to get him focused on his accomplishments and positive personality traits. What I didn’t understand was that he literally could not see how good he was. I wish we had had deep conversations about his demons.
Third, we have to change our unwillingness to talk about things that are “hard”. As a family we are really good at having fun. We have so many memories of wild crazy fun and laughter. We have never been shy or embarrassed about our fun and antics even when everyone around us was in shock. But we are not good at talking about those deep dark secrets and fears in our soul. The things that are so secret we are afraid to face them in the mirror or on our knees and certainly don’t want to face them with another human. We are trying to train ourselves to talk about the pain, fear and disappointment. I am sure this will be a long journey with many stumbles along the way but I am also certain we will prevail. You see another family trait we all share is perseverance and stubbornness. Ironic.
Four, every single day tell your family how much you love and cherish them. If I could talk to my son for just 10 seconds I would tell him how deeply I love him, how desperately I need him in my life and I would tell him that the only thing suicide guarantees is that things will NEVER get better.
Grief. The other thing I have learned is that this word just isn’t sufficient to capture the hurt and pain. The grief is so deep, so powerful and so encompassing I cannot express it in words.
Pain.
Sorrow.
Rage.
Heart broken.
Misery.
Anger.
Anguish.
Fury.
The list is endless but the sum total of all of these words doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the emotional results of suicide. In the end there is nothing for me to do with any of these emotions because nothing changes my reality – my son is gone. For anyone considering suicide I hope you will stop for 60 seconds and think about your family and friends. I can tell you first hand the grief suffered from suicide is overwhelming and all encompassing. I truly cannot adequately communicate the enormity and depth of my sadness. PLEASE ASK FOR HELP.
I want to be clear about one thing. I understand this group is dedicated to those professionals serving in emergency services. I do not blame my son’s employer or his profession. I blame our entire society. The stigma surrounding depression and mental health must be shattered. There is no shame in getting help. Yes I can speak of this personally – in my early twenties I was diagnosed manic depressive. You can quiet your demons. You can learn to love yourself. There is help. There is hope.
Joe Green I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you.
Many friends were trying their best to help and just couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t and couldn’t talk about things. They believed that I needed to talk to be able to “deal with things”. This was my attempt to explain to them that I love them and appreciate their concern for me and my family but I am not able to talk – yet.
So many time I’ve been asked
How are you? How’s the family?
The answer is always the same
I smile and say I’m fine, we’re doing good
Cuz there’s just no way to explain that would be understood
There are no words that can ever explain
A heart that is crippled with pain
Hope and happiness burned up by rage
Loneliness so deep you welcome the void
Each day hoping this is the day we meet again
How do you explain pain so deep you can’t feel anything else
Pain that makes sunshine and happiness hurt
Listening to sad songs hoping to feel a spark
Knowing there’s no place on earth that can provide refuge from the pain
How do you explain a rage so intense it’s consumed everything else?
No shapes, no colors, no joy, no pain
Blinding it crowds out your heart and creates a void
It’s become my best friend, the only thing I can feel
How do explain a loneliness so complete it feels like death has already won?
A loneliness that makes staring into the mirror feel like a crowded room
Death is the only way to avoid this loneliness, the only thing that offers hope
The same death that was the cause is now salvations only rope?
How do you explain that life no longer exists in your lover’s eyes?
The one who has inspired with bottomless faith, hope and love
Now stares faithless, hopeless and numb
Who’s to inspire and when will it come?
How do you explain that your children just became old women?
Their spirit is crushed, their hope is gone
The one who provided so much has now taken it all
The promises broken that have gone to the grave
There are no words that can ever explain
A heart that is crippled with pain
Hope and happiness burned up by rage
Loneliness so deep you welcome the void
Each day hoping this is the day we meet again
