The boys left the house for their play date. It seems bizarre starting this entry with the term play date but that was what it was. This was the last morning before their innate sense of innocence would forever be changed.

Dan and I were both raised Catholic as are our children. The boys attend the local Catholic school and our faith in God is an integral part of who we are. I had very mixed emotions prior to calling the priest. I knew the children and I needed his guidance but I was not sure what the churches stance was on suicide. In my grief and utter despair I was deeply worried he might share that the church viewed Dan’s death as a sin. A sin so great that he may not be able to spend eternity in heaven with God. If the church’s opinion differed how could I begin to reconcile his death with my children? I called Father and asked if he believed Dan was in heaven. He in turn asked me if I was able to forgive Dan, which I replied of course. He said that I should trust in God’s ability to forgive Dan and welcome him into heaven because God’s ability to forgive is even greater than mine.  Our phone call continued. I told him Dan’s parents and sisters would arrive from Phoenix in the early afternoon. We agreed it would be best for him to be at my house when they arrived and then we would gather the children and tell them of Dan’s death.

Whether or not you are part of any religion, when it comes to suicide there is a fear that in sharing the details of your loved one’s suicide you will not be accepted as you once were. And in our deepest despair it’s when we need our faith, church, family and friends to be at our side the most. I absolutely believe Dan is with God and I absolutely believe that Dan was a wonderful man who was not weak; though some may disagree, he did not give up or abandon his family.

I can say with confidence that our family, friends, and church endlessly supported us and continue to do so. We were enveloped by people’s love, kindness, and understanding. All of our basic needs were being taken care of so that we could begin to heal without judgment.

I called my psychiatrist who treats my anxiety with the prescription Zoloft, an antidepressant that has anti-anxiety affects. I explained all that had happened. During the phone call I cried and asked him to help make sure I was going to be ok. I was afraid that just like there was a “switch” in Dan when he got off the plane that the same could possibly happen to me. I had to be well; I had to be healthy for my children. I made an appointment to see him that week. The topic of me maintaining my mental health is one that could require multiple blog entries at a later date. Shock, guilt, despair, nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty concentrating, and social withdrawal were all struggles at first and continue today at a lesser extent today.

 The coroner determined Dan died by suicide; therefore an autopsy was not required. However, it was important to me that an autopsy be performed because I wanted to know if Dan’s suicide was brought on by a tumor that caused anxiety and depression along with a recent change in vision that had required prescription glasses. Or was it anxiety and depression not precipitated by another disease process? My dear friend who had been with me throughout that night started the process of ordering an autopsy.  It is actually a lengthy and difficult process. She saw how desperate I was to know as much as I could of Dan’s illness and death and she was relentless in the process. After hours and multiple phone calls she found a physician who was willing and able to perform the autopsy the same week of his death.

Family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances were trying to contact me. Word of his suicide had already spread outside of the state. People wanted to know if Dan was dead and if it was in fact by way of suicide. I did confirm and allowed others to confirm his death but only shared suicide with a close few. I decided it was best to confirm his suicide once I had the results of the autopsy.

One of the final phone calls I felt I needed to make prior to telling the children was to the Dougy Center. My friend called on my behalf and told them our story. Their immediate advice was to tell the children the truth and soon! They then spoke to me and guided me through the steps of talking to my children…. provide them with some basic information first and then let their questions guide our conversations. They provided the names of family grief counselors near my home and welcomed us to join Dougy Center support groups in the fall. Though we did not start support groups until the fall I would continue to call the Dougy Center over the next couple of weeks for guidance. The Dougy Center is an incredible non-profit organization that provides support and resources for the grieving family. I am very grateful for the support they provided and have continued to provide my family.

I called the first name on the list of family grief counselors. I was very specific with my questions about her style of therapy, and I also inquired if she would be closing her practice anytime soon. We scheduled an appointment for me within the next week or so and decided if it went well, then the boys and I would start weekly therapy.

It’s interesting that I asked if she would be closing her practice anytime soon. I was instinctively trying to reduce the risk that someone close to them or someone that would become an integral part of their healing such as our future therapist would come into their lives and then leave. I say it over and over again that Dan did not abandon our family, yet within the first 24 hours I was already trying to reduce the risk of another loss. Dan did not choose his illness or his death, and therefore he did not abandon us, but his death has created some feeling or fears that have resulted in a fear of abandonment for both my children and myself. Primarily I worry about my children suffering another loss… sometimes too much. These feelings are not something I currently fully understand about my children or myself.

Four and seven years old is so young. At their ages you may wonder if they could truly comprehend the permanence of death. Sadly our family had already experienced a profound loss. Dan’s sister, Beth, died December 3, 2010 of peritoneal cancer. She endured a two-year battle with chemotherapy and second and third opinions. At the time, Dan and I had decided it was best for me to stay home from work for a few years after Finn’s birth in 2009. Throughout that year, my boys and I would travel every few months to Arizona where Beth, her husband Ken, and their two kids Megan and Grant lived, and we’d stay for several weeks at a time. Beth and Ken asked Dan and I to raise Megan and Grant in the event something happened to them. We of course said yes. It was important to Dan, Beth, Ken and myself that we all be together as much as possible. We wanted to cement our relationship with each other’s children so they could have a more solid foundation upon Beth’s death. My boys were with Beth and her family often through her illness and ultimately during her home hospice just before her death. With Beth’s death my boys began an earlier understanding of permanence and witnessed the pain of their cousins’ loss. It was her disease that prompted me to search for support groups for her children which is how I learned of the Dougy Center.

I don’t recall exactly when I communicated with Ken after Dan’s death in the first 24 hours, but I do know that I did and I asked him to please not change his will. If he died I still wanted to raise Megan and Grant. I wanted them to know that while they had just lost their Uncle they would not lose me. Equally as important to me, I wanted to know I would not lose them. My children and I deeply love Megan and Grant and we will always play a significant role in each other’s lives.

Beth’s death complicates my children’s grief process obviously for multiple reasons. With Beth’s disease her death was imminent with Dan it was unexpected. With the loss of their Dad and Beth they developed a real fear that I could die too which impacted their daily lives and continues to do so.

Dan’s parents, sister, and the priest arrived in the early afternoon and were waiting inside my home with Grace and my mother. It was time for me to tell my boys. I walked a few houses down to the get the boys from their play date. Walking through the door and watching all of the kids play was a surreal moment. The last twelve plus hours were horrific and now my happy, innocent children would have to know the truth and feel the agony of his death. We began our short walk home, them telling me about their day. Once we were in front of our house I knelt down and told them Daddy died and went to heaven. I’ll never forget the first thing my four-year son said to me was, who is going to play “tackle” with me (he and Dan’s form of play wrestling). I do not think I had a response. I told them who was at the house and that it was time to go inside where we would talk about it more. We all gathered in the family room, the boys in my lap. My seven year old asked when and how he died. I told him when dad died and I told him dad “fell” off of a building. I told him we knew he made himself fall and that no one pushed him. He asked why would he make himself fall? I said he made himself fall because his brain was “broken” and he was in pain. His brain told him the only way the pain would end was to make himself fall and die. He asked why was his brain broken. I said his brain was broken because of an illness like cancer or one that is called depression. I explained that there was a special doctor that was with Dad who was going to help us figure out which illness made dad want to fall off of the building (the autopsy). At that point my four year old asked if he could go play. He had received as much information as his mind could handle. My seven year old cried in my arms. The priest and our family comforted us. I’ll always remember the priest told me to take it “one moment at a time”. He was so right. Taking things a moment at a time would continue for many months and on and off for at least the first year.

In the next hours, days, weeks, months and years each child would ask more questions. Some questions asked for greater detail. Other questions were asked so the boys could hear the same information to remind themselves of the events, and also because as they age developmentally they have a greater ability to understand and process the details. I took the Dougy Center’s advice that day, and I told my children the truth. We openly and truthfully talked about Dan’s death when he died, and we continue to speak openly and truthfully about him every day. I knew even then, in that time of shock and tragedy, that Dan’s illness was not shameful. I will not whisper around my children, I will not skirt around what happened. We celebrate Dan’s life and we grieve Dan’s death openly and together as a family.

Connie DeMerell