Our daughter died

She was brilliant, strong, funny, sarcastic, and beautiful. She was 40 years old the day she put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. After 22 years of fighting the life-ravaging battle against her bipolar depression, our Laura gave up.

I am her Mother. I’m now a woman who will never recover from the loss of my loving and incredibly loved child.

Laura has been dead for over two years and I have just decided to publish some of the musings I’ve written about this tragedy, partly in an attempt to exorcise some of the demons who remain inside me, and partly to show someone who is contemplating suicide what happens to those she leaves behind.

When asked recently, one of my friends said to another that I “would never be the same as before but was trying to survive one day at a time.” She was so close to being right. I will never be the same as I was, but I’m surviving. Days continue to stretch out as huge periods that must be endured since I’ve yet to find a time that I don’t wish she was here with us. Our minister told us that we would never get over Laura’s suicide, only learn to live with it. I must be a very slow learner. Her death left such a gigantic hole in my life that I’ll trip over as long as I live.

In fact, the most consistently repetitive thing we continue to hear since our daughter died is, “I just can’t imagine ……” Oh, so true my friends, so true. Unless you have had a child commit suicide, you can’t begin to know this level of pain. Between feeling that somehow you should have/could have done something — anything — differently that would have stopped her, to the agony of knowing that she felt such agony, I now survive in a life sentence of grief.

As a high school teacher,  I was taught in Crisis Intervention training and heard it repeated dozens of times, that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. That’s just pure bull. Laura didn’t have a temporary problem. She had an illness that clawed at her life and every experience in it for over 22 years. Bipolar depression is such a nasty, awful mental illness, most especially since the sufferer is not “out of her mind.” Laura always knew she was ill and battling to try and stay sane through every mania and every depression. What is amazing is that she was so successful in her careers and friendships throughout it all.

I must quote her best friend, Alison, here because she was an active part of Laura’s Austin years where we didn’t see her except holidays and vacations. However, the description so perfectly sums up what life was like for Laura that it can’t be ignored:

“….she went without sleep for days on end…and still managed to show up to teach & make it happen. But she has also battled major depression and bipolar disease since she was a teen. As long as I have known her (20yrs) she has never felt like the rest of us. Sure, there were good times–events, moments shared with friends, nights out where we laughed & loved, but overall, for Laura, life just never felt good. She couldn’t just be “happy” and everything was a struggle–just mustering the energy to function, most days. Which, until now, she always managed to brilliantly do, somehow….. thanks to her sheer force of will and, of course, a laundry list of different meds….but they always either had side effects that were just as bad as the depression or flat out stopped working. Best case, they kept her from acutely wanting to leave all this. It was never really “better” for more than a week here or there. Ever. She tried. So hard. For so long. I think she was just….tired. But I have to understand her side–she was the one living that life, and she knew how loved she was–that wasn’t the problem–she truly tried everything to make it bearable, and when she finally accepted she couldn’t she made her calculated decision to end this on her own terms. In classic, organized, analytical Laura fashion.”

So I write this blog not only as a self-indulgence but also because these two years have taught her father and me so many lessons that should be shared. Not only did we have to bury our only daughter, but we also had to learn to have a new reality of life. And without question, fighting the bureaucracy of our legal system when a child dies without a will is the greatest lesson we can pass on because even without being the parent of an ill child, you too could be the heir of someone who dies without making a will.

But that part comes later. Indulge me a little longer learning about Laura.

Darkest Days

Hearing that your daughter is dead should be the worst experience a parent faces. But somehow life shuts down your brain and a fog covers your vision the minute you hear that report. Undoubtedly this is a means to cope with the abhorrent news without going completely insane yourself.

That merciful fog lifts entirely though when faced with choosing a casket. If I was asked, I would say that was definitely the worst day of my life. How could I select a box that would house my baby and close her off from me for eternity? Just knowing we would never get to see Laura again completely dropped me to my knees, and only the strength of my courageous son kept me from totally remaining collapsed on the floor.

Suicides aren’t treated with the same degree of haste that a hospital death would enjoy. It took two long days to get her body released from the medical examiner’s office and sent to the funeral home. Only because Laura had arranged her death like she did her life, with great planning and careful attention to what her survivors would face, did we even get her back that quickly.

But is time to talk about Craig, our incredible, strong, loving, devoted son. Not only did he face telling his boys, Laura’s nephews with whom she was so close and who loved her so devotedly, that she was dead, he also had parents in complete despair. But most importantly, he lost his sister.

How Craig managed to write and deliver her eulogy not only amazed us, but also the congregation of friends and relatives who gave us their love on a hot Saturday of Labor Day weekend. What he wrote was so beautiful, and such a tribute to his sister and their love that it needs to be included here:

I’m Craig. I had the honor of being Laura’s big brother. She is my only sibling. I know what you’re thinking….obviously, she got all the looks. And you’re right.  She was beautiful. And guess what…she also got the brains too. She was so smart, and athletic and musically talented, artistic, and compassionate. And I could go on and on and still miss something that describes her.

Laura and I were close…in many definitions of that word. First of all, we were only 10 months apart in age – I’ve been married for almost 19 years and I still can’t figure out how our Mom did this. But, my favorite two months of the year were January and February when were the same age! We were so close in age that we were often mistaken for twins. (In fact, at one point, thanks to the unfortunate unisex chili bowl hairstyle in the 70s, we were mistaken for twin boys.) My mom has told us many times through the years that she didn’t need to arrange play dates, didn’t even know what a playgroup was because she had provided us with a best friend by having us so close together. And she was right. We were. I don’t have a childhood memory that doesn’t include my sister. (And apparently not a picture either, which we discovered after going through old pictures. We found few individual pictures this week to make her slideshow.)  We had one name — CraigandLaura –when people would ever mention one of us the mentioned both.  And it was great to be an almost-twin. We had the same friends and did everything at the same time. Because she could sometimes be a little shy, she went along with me for everything. I never really thought anything about it because I didn’t ever know differently. She was like an extension of me. I’ve had an epiphany this week that the reason she and LeAnn were able to be such good friends is they shared a common bond (or support group) that comes from both having lived with me!

Our childhood was great. She and I played outside until dark catching fireflies. We ate popsicles with neighbors, ran between houses with friends, played soccer and kickball for hours in the yard. We took road trips in a brown van with carpet all the way around it – laying on a big bed in the back and singing Kenny Rogers and Larry Gatlin. We played in San Antonio with great friends when my Aunt Carolanne lived there, and swam in the lake in Knoxville at my Aunt Donna’s house. It was a normal, apple-pie Americana childhood. She was adorable and happy. She was successful in school and well behaved. My mother constantly had to promise our teachers if they would endure having me, she would reward them the next year with Laura. She was that perfect.

Later, we always loved watching her play volleyball and basketball. Not only because she was good, but also because she was suddenly able to be so aggressive and competitive. It was amazing and fun to see her develop leadership and self-confidence and happiness through athletics.

Her level of capability and determination also later extended to playing the French horn. First of all, it’s a beautiful instrument. But second of all, she was really good at it. I’ve been amazed this week by all of the messages and stories that have been sent to me by our high school friends who fondly remember and mention specifics about her talent and beauty and humor. Although she lost contact through the years with many people, I’m comforted by the way that so many people remember her and how her death has impacted them too.

After high school, Laura took the long and winding road through college. It had a few detours and we tried one time recently to piece together in order the cities she lived in. Unlike me who my wife refers to as “Mr. One Mile Radius,” Laura left Dallas in 1991 and really didn’t move back until this summer. She lived through the years in Austin, Houston, College Station, Oklahoma City, and Japan. And some of those places she lived multiple times at different points. I am amazed to meet the 14 friends who drove in from several of these cities, and we had a great time last night after the visitation listening to the stories of their adventures with Laura through the years. Many of them were her roommates at different times. They told me when and where they lived with her, and I promise you we need to see a family tree of roommates to piece it together. She worked for the Gap throughout a lot of those years. She was the hardest working manager they ever had. Wherever she moved, there was a Gap location there and she transferred with them. Sometimes she moved because they asked her too. Eventually, she grew tired of retail management, like many people do. But I still miss her family discount!

It’s really ironic to think now that she ever worked at the Gap because she so loved Goodwill and other thrift stores. I’m not sure she now owns any items of any kind that didn’t come from a second-hand store. And she found treasures at Goodwill that no one else could ever find. She would walk in with a beautiful coat or boots or any other item of clothing and it would look new and beautiful, and she would tell us she spent $2 on it at Goodwill. It would be the same things we all pay much more for in a retail store. And here we thought a good deal was shopping at Marshall’s!

She finally settled in Austin and spent, at least, the last 15 years there. She loved Austin and everything about it. She embraced the, “Keep Austin Weird,” slogan. In fact, at one time she told that she didn’t me to ever move there because they didn’t need any more people like me there! (conservative and traditional.) I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not! But that tells you a lot about her because she had no reservations about saying what was on her mind. In many ways, I admire that and I’m even slightly jealous. Laura was blessed with a comfort in not needing to conform or worry about being politically correct. She enjoyed a certain freedom that comes from not being tied to the filters we all use for everyday conversation. Austin also embraced her and she felt the freest to be who she was and live her lifestyle there without worry about judgment. On behalf of my family, I want to thank all of her friends here today who put up with her quirks and loved her as much as we did. I know it is because of all of you that we had her as long as we did, and I know she loved you. There are so many of you that I want to personally thank, but I can’t walk away from this opportunity to publicly thank Alison who was her lifeline and best friend for so long beginning back in the College Station days and Mandi who was her roommate for some of the best years of her life, and some of the best years that we had with her too. Thank you.

I need to move on because I know when you think of Laura, you can’t help but immediately think of cats. Really her compassion for all animals, but cats are on a whole other level for her. In fact, when we told my boys this week about her death, their first question was, “What about her cats?” It just defines her. She told Sue recently she was turning into that cliché of a single 40-year old lady with all the stray cats. But really that has been a life-long calling for her. I will never forget when she was young, maybe 10 or 11, and she came riding home on her bike in tears because she had seen a car stop and drop a kitten on the side of the street in our neighborhood. She had immediately gotten off her bike and picked up the kitten and put it under some bushes in a nearby yard. By the time she got home, she was a wreck with the thought that the kitten would wander off and she was begging and crying for us to go back and bring it home. Of course, my parents got in the car with her and went and got the kitten who she named Nibbles and who quickly became a huge part of our family. Nibbles wasn’t the only stray or orphan cat she adopted and loved. There were many more in her life through the years, and I think she fed every stray cat in Austin. In fact, I have one at home even now who was a kitten from a stray mother cat who had a litter in her closet. If you’ve known her as an adult, you obviously would have known Ralphie and Camper too. And Winchell, and some others whose names I’ve forgotten right now.

Although I call them cats, they were children to her. We watched in awe recently as she nursed Camper back to health from a point in which most anyone else would have said was hopeless. And I’m talking heroic, extreme nursing…she would have probably made a great reality TV show. She deeply grieved the loss of Ralphie last year, and I can’t fathom what she was dealing with this past week since Camper has been missing. Allison, please thank your friend Susan who is taking Wyatt and Lily back to Austin. And I promise you now I won’t see a stray cat again without thinking of her.

After over 20 years of living away, Laura had moved back to Dallas this summer. Trust me I never thought it would happen. But she did. She had been teaching at a really tough school in Austin and needed a fresh start. She also planned to go to grad school to get a master’s degree in counseling. With her background, she would have been such a great counselor. We had the best summer with her and I’m so thankful now for it. Despite the major change, she seemed happy. She loved swimming or going to a movie with us, or just hanging out on the floor at my house with my boys. She was the best aunt they could ever ask for and they worshiped her. She was always bringing them little presents and finding new games to play with them. She would call us on a weekend, and say “I’ll come play with the boys so you can run your errands.” It was beautiful to watch. She also recently had us over for dinner and had tried to make such a great meal, but she didn’t know how to use the gas grill. I showed her how which isn’t saying much because I’m not really good at grilling either. But I’ll always treasure that memory now.

I thought it was the start of something good for us, and I was really looking forward to the years ahead for us to be with her much more. She was living here with Sue and John, our closest family friends…which isn’t actually doing our relationship justice because they are so much for than friends – truly family – to us. Sue and John are gone more than they are home, so it worked perfectly for Laura. She made it her new home…so much that she rearranged or reorganized every part of their house. Sue is still looking for things that used to be easy to find in a certain drawer! If you know Laura, this doesn’t surprise you, because she has the same OCD gene for organizing and neatness that I have too. Although from hearing the stories, I think she definitely had it to a greater extent. She would have been a fantastic Container Store employee, and she really loved her label maker!

Although I want to stay up here all day and talk about my sister, I don’t want to leave without a chance to remind everyone here that someone else loves you and would miss you if you were gone. I would give anything to tell Laura that again. But because I can’t, please intervene in the life of someone who needs you. All the medicine in the world sometimes is not enough. Depression is real and we know that it can cloud judgment and block the light of the world. I never want to go through this again, and I don’t want you to have to either. I’m wearing a bracelet today from my best friend, Amberly, who is also like a sister to me. It’s for suicide prevention with their website listed on it, imalive.org. And I love it. Let’s be alive. On behalf of my family, thank you for loving us and supporting us this week. We have been nearly incapacitated with grief, and it won’t end today, but your care is helping us move forward. Thank you.

What happens next is another heart-breaking lesson when your child dies.

Lesson 1: No will? No Way

In her extremely organized manner, Laura left us a typed list of where everything she owned was located, and what the passwords were on each of her accounts. Her file box with tabs couldn’t have been more direct.

Because she and her friend had sold the house they co-owned, her assets were down to two cars — one she had bought so recently that the title hadn’t even been changed — and a motorcycle, plus a bank account, credit card, credit union account and an annuity. And there’s where the real trouble began.

Texas is one of the few states that allows the filing of something called a “Small Estate Affidavit” in lieu of a will. We were blessed with our daughter-in-law’s wonderful cousin who is an attorney understood this law and drew up all the necessary papers for us. Our hands were totally tied until this was processed. Her bank accounts were frozen and a couple of checks started arriving made out to the “Estate of…” that couldn’t be deposited until we were officially declared her heirs.

Blithely we took all the necessary papers, death certificates, and more to the county clerk in downtown Dallas who couldn’t have been nicer. She also couldn’t have been more wrong. After looking over all we were filing, she informed us that we were assigned to Court “A” and would be receiving our certified copies of the affidavit within three weeks. Part of the friendly service included a phone number for us to call if we hadn’t received our probated papers within that time.

Four weeks later I finally phoned the court clerk of our assigned judge who shockingly informed me that the judge only scheduled will probate appearances within three weeks. Small Estate Affidavits were (and I quote) “…insignificant and he gets to them in his spare time, usually about six or more months later.”  WHOA! My daughter’s death with a small estate was “insignificant” to the court system? Meanwhile, the checks and bills kept coming, accounts needed to be closed, two cars and a motorcycle needed to be sold, and just cleaning up what little financial life Laura had was totally on hold.

I was incensed.

Oh, and interestingly enough, our mechanic knew of Laura’s old car and had a customer who was desperate for some transportation immediately. He came and paid us cash for it with the good faith that we would have the title ready for him in two more weeks. How do we explain that?

Although I love the story about how a prominent attorney angel friend jumped in and saved this situation for us, that could probably never happen for almost anyone else, so I will get back to the point of this whole saga.

Single people, no matter how old they are, absolutely need to have a co-signer on all their banking accounts, and titles to vehicles. And, more importantly, single people absolutely must have a will, especially those who own property and couldn’t qualify for the “small estate” route. Even a short, handwritten will is valid in Texas.

You think this will never happen to you. Yet, I have three friends who have had a single adult child die in car accidents. It can happen to anyone, not just parents of the mentally ill. Parents or next of kin just don’t ever think of what all happens if they are faced with settling an estate — even a “small” one like we had. Our bank refused to set up an estate account for us because we never seemed to have all the reams and reams of paperwork they required, even after the judge had signed off on the affidavit.  Blessedly, Chase Bank pulled through because they actually understood Texas law, but this was not until we had made four trips — long trips– to Compass to try to satisfy their requests. It was mentally exhausting. The repeated punching on our emotional fragility kept us unable to focus on any other part of our moving on with life.

We had a car “sold,” a car and motorcycle sitting at our house staring at me every day with the reminder that Laura wouldn’t be driving them any longer. We had checks we couldn’t cash, and checks that were due to us that we couldn’t claim.

It was a financial nightmare forced on us at a time when we had already had the ultimate of life’s nightmares and shouldn’t have to deal with any others.

I throw this in as an aside for those who don’t know: When you go to a funeral home to make arrangements the first time, you must pay for the entire funeral, the plot, and everything but the marker in full right then. Financially we were in the position to hand them a credit card to charge $22,000 the day her body was transferred, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to someone who couldn’t.

Eventually, we sent the required certified copies of her death certificate and the affidavit to everyone she had ever done business with and started unraveling the knot of settling an estate. Until that point, we had three institutions on her list that wouldn’t even acknowledge we were her next of kin because they all had named beneficiaries.

Then our hearts got ripped open again.

Lesson 2: Beneficiary Betrayal

I could write volumes on the lousy real estate mistake Laura and a fellow teacher I’ll call Annie made when they bought a house in Austin. With no experience in home ownership, they picked a place that resembled a backyard shed and was built just as efficiently. We were presented with it as a done deal when Laura needed some money for a down payment so it was too late to talk them out of this giant blunder. In their naivety, they had signed a contract to buy a money pit.

Annie spent countless holidays, vacations and weeks at our house during the early “house” years because her entire family lived out of the country. Our family embraced her as a second daughter and treated her with all the love and care that we gave our own children. She was needy for family love. We had plenty to give. What fools we turned out to be.

The house in East Austin was located in an area that they were both convinced would be rezoned commercial and it would be worth twice what they paid for it soon. It was an uneducated rookie mistake that never paid off. I still can’t figure out if Laura was in one of her manic states when she did this because she was normally so frugal, or if she was just a sheep that was led to the pen because she wanted to believe it would be a great investment. Nevertheless, on a teacher’s salary, neither young woman could afford the house payment on her own so they somehow were convinced to pay into annuities payable on death to the other. I bet you can see what’s coming.

A lot of water went under the bridge, literally, but a few years later they finally sold the house. Laura had spent a couple of years living in it alone and paying for all the repairs while Annie lived in a foreign country before returning back to Austin. Laura finally moved out and Annie took over the house. However, Laura’s name was still on the mortgage so she wouldn’t have qualified to buy anything else. The relief when it finally sold and that horrible burden was gone was immense. Time goes by and….

Laura died.

Although she had told us about the annuity when they bought the house, she mentioned later that she had changed the beneficiary back to us because she no longer had any financial responsibility to Annie. Unfortunately, somehow that never really happened. On her meticulous list of assets, Laura left the phone number for us and the name of the agent who had sold her the policy. What a shock I got when I made that call.

Annie too was very surprised to hear she was still the beneficiary when I notified her but assured me she would give us the money to us to help pay for the funeral. Annie, if you ever read this I still have several exchanges of text messages where you lovingly assured me that it would all be taken care of. She fully understood the money was no longer meant to be hers.

Yet, she changed her mind.

Annie’s last conversation with me was a month after Laura died when she said, “I have to take care of myself.” And she did. To the amount of $24,000. Ironically, that was the exact amount that Laura’s funeral and marker cost.

No matter what it is, you need to check your beneficiaries on a regular basis. Most jobs have life insurance on their employees, along with other assorted insurance plans that are thrown in during a tenure. The great question is: Who do you want to get that money if you were to die tomorrow?

I assure you it isn’t Annie.

Lesson 3: Professional Help

She was a senior in high school when Laura’s disease first became so acute that we no longer could believe she was just going through typical teenage angst. Although in hindsight I realize that all the symptoms had been creeping up for several years, the first suicide attempt we knew about happened the summer before her senior year. We had her to a psychiatrist that very afternoon.

In 1990, there wasn’t a lot of information about what was then known as manic-depressive disease and medication choices were slim. A new drug called Prozac had recently become available, but her doctor didn’t believe she needed it until the second attempt two months later. We cannot judge its effectiveness because it is a drug that treats depression, but the manic stages were still not under control. As the year went on, and her behavior became more unpredictable, I realized I was over my head and needed help too.

Enter Carolyn Lohman, a psychologist that led us through the valley of Laura’s awful senior year. How naive we all were then about how seriously sick she really was. Somehow we really believed she could take these anti-depressants and have a normal life. She graduated and we sent her to college. It was a huge error in judgment that took us years to understand.

Twenty-two years later, Laura died. I called Carolyn Lohman again.

Dennis says that going to Carolyn for counseling was like getting a roadmap on how to survive with this incredible grief. We were walking in a fog, and she showed us a path. In the first few months, we learned how to cope with the holidays that were coming (don’t decorate, don’t do anything that you’ve ever done before) and how to answer all the questions people ask, and generally how to navigate in a world without Laura. Well-meaning friends told me about grief recovery groups that were totally the wrong place for us to be. Suicide survivor groups don’t even want to see you for the first six months and I now understand that reasoning. We needed to focus on how we, Laura’s parents, were going to face the world and deal with our deep torment and Carolyn showed us a way.

No matter how strong you think you are, the death of a child is an unbearable loss that needs a professional help to guide your way from the abyss. She could predict situations and problems before we had to deal with them. Having ready made answers and the knowledge of what you were going to do was a priceless gift.

In fact, we went to Carolyn in decreasing amounts each month for over two years. I told one of my friends that it was comforting to me to know that at least once a month I would have a whole hour where I could just sit and talk about my daughter. I actually may even go back some day.

Learning who your friends are comes next

Lesson 4: Say SOMETHING

I mentioned earlier that the most constant comment we heard, and it continues to this day, is from people who “just can’t imagine.” At least those people said something.

We were totally amazed at the outpouring of love we received from people when Laura died. The funeral home was full visitation night and the next day for her service. People we hadn’t seen in years showed up. My former students and their parents came, along with a wonderful group of my former Berkner colleagues. A large collection of her Austin friends came en masse Friday with more driving up and back on Saturday. My best friend in high school drove up from Conroe. Craig’s friends showed up with hugs and food and surrounded him and us with compassion. Charitable donations we requested in lieu of flowers came pouring in along with cards and notes. Ironically, I don’t remember even how I made it through the days from the time she was found until the funeral, but I remember well who brought comfort with their presence.

Sadly, I am also aware of the “friends” that never bothered to even a card.

Being ignored by people who I felt affection only added to the pain of our loss. Which brings the point that people claim they don’t know what to say to express sympathy. I tell you that what you say isn’t important as long as you say something! We were always very transparent about our daughter’s illness, and we never considered hiding the fact that she committed suicide.  We believed, as our minister said at her funeral, “Laura did not kill herself. Her disease killed her.” If reticence on being sympathetic was because she took her own life, then it was a compound wrong.

I still look at the cards we received and the comments posted on her Restland Obituary page because they bring me joy. People who knew and loved our Laura knew what an incredible woman she was despite the fact she battled such an awful disease. On the first Mother’s Day after her death, I received two cards from people who knew what a hard day it would be. I cherish those cards and those people. Another of her friends who lives in Spain continues to send flowers every year at Thanksgiving. She remains thankful for the childhood friendship they shared. I remain thankful for her.

I read this somewhere and am sorry that I can’t give credit to where I got it, but it said: “What we all still face at the close of each day, and that is a missing piece of ourselves, a gaping painful wound that never closes. We live with the frustration of knowing that this is a pain that we must endure for the rest of our lives, and that my friends is so tiresome and sad.”

I couldn’t have said it any better.

Because of this reality, it is important for those of you supporting a grieving friend or loved one to remember, they are forever changed, and they are forever broken, and they are forever grieving

When someone dies, another person feels pain. It makes no difference what you say, what they hear is “I care about you.”

What I wish I had done differently after she died is next

Lesson 5: Hasty Decisions

It didn’t take long after burying Laura that I realized I had made too many decisions in haste. One of the biggest that continues to haunt me is that I called a battered women’s shelter to pick up everything she owned. They loved getting clothes, medicines, contact lenses, make-up and all the other accouterments a woman might ever need. Most of their clients have fled an abusive situation with only the clothes on their backs. It made me feel good, for a few hours, that Laura was helping those women.

When opening a drawer at our house in the bedroom she used, I was suddenly hit with her favorite flannel p.j.’s and slippers. No matter what the season, I always keep the house too cold for Laura and she dressed for her comfort. After another huge cry, out it went. Because she was house-sitting when she died, Laura had her whole “life” in a storage unit that we cleaned out way too quickly as well, taking and discarding item after item because at that moment, I couldn’t face the reality that she was not coming back to claim it.

It was a mistake and one that gets larger as time goes on.

I can’t tell you how much I wish I had something to hold that was a part of Laura. I dream of those silly green pajama bottoms that were her nightly uniform every time she was here. I see quilts that survivors have made of their loved one’s clothes and think that is another thing I will never have. I see pictures of Laura with this weird square silver ring she always wore, and cry again because someone else is wearing it. Her friends asked for different items, and I gave them away with abandon. While I was erasing my child’s possessions,  I was erasing too much of what made her special that I would give anything to have back.

The lesson is: Wait before you clean. Get a storage locker if having possessions in your home is too painful and give it, at least, six months before you look at them again. At the six month mark, I cried anew at what I didn’t have to hold other than my memories. That continues to this day.

Another big mistake could happen to anyone when faced with a crisis of burying their child. Where do you want her to be for eternity? We chose to put Laura in a vacant space owned by our family that was adjacent to my grandparents. Laura had known and loved Nannie and Pappa and, even though they were her great-grandparents, she spent many happy days and nights with them. It seemed like a logical choice. Better still, it was a choice we didn’t have to make because it was just presented to us and we didn’t have to traipse all over the cemetery looking at vacant plots. Win-Win we thought.

Sitting under the awning with our wonderful minister saying the final prayers over her casket it hit me and I wanted to stand up and shout! I knew suddenly then without question that I wanted Laura to be beside me throughout eternity, and not over next to my grandparents, no matter how beloved, who would probably never get a visitor after I was gone.

The reality now that in order to make this happen I will have to move Laura. There were so many other choices I could have made. Among them are cremation and having her urn buried with us, or choosing a larger family space instead of the two we owned, whatever it would have taken. As horrible as it is to even consider, some parents do have to bury their child. It’s worth a thought before you’re ever faced with having to make a decision when you are too fragile to think clearly.

Someday I will figure this all out and decide what, if anything, to do. Until then, she rests with her great-grandparents who loved her and were an active part of her life. I can get some peace with knowing that.

The “Cliffs Notes” version comes at the end

Last Lesson

I could write forever about Laura. In fact, someday I might. I’ve left out all the wonders of who she was and what she accomplished by focusing on her disease. That is not an oversight, merely a delay.

I couldn’t quit blogging about this experience without adding this one last page of advice to people who are suddenly faced with knowing someone whose child dies although much of this advice could really apply to anyone who has experienced a death in the family. I’ll make it short and succinct.

1) Say something/Do something! There was a lesson already devoted to this, so I don’t have anything to add. Show up if you can. Send a card if you can’t. There isn’t any way you can do something wrong except ignore giving your sympathy.

A caveat to that important rule is: Don’t tell someone who has lost a child that you “know how they feel” because you had a parent die. It is not anywhere close to the same thing. We have had three of our four parents die and we know how true this is. I couldn’t believe the number of people who equated Laura’s death to the loss of a parent. Skip that! Just say, “I’m sorry for your loss” and move on if you can’t think of anything else.

2) Food, food and more food: Simply put, the most valuable things we received immediately were those that we didn’t have to cook. A huge deli tray from our neighbors saved us when all 15 or so of Laura’s friends appeared at our house after the visitation. A spiral cut honey baked ham was incredibly easy to slice and couple with some potato salad or chips when we had to eat. A large pyrex bowl of 7-Layer dip made snacking easy. I could look at the list and come up with many more treasured foods, but this gives you the idea.

After all the out-of-towners left and the dust settled, we enjoyed the casseroles and take-out meals that we received and were grateful to not have to try to grocery shop or cook. But the first week of mourning we existed solely on what was easy to put in our mouths since we had no appetite at all.

3) The gift of paper plates, cups, silverware, chips, ice, drinks and wine and sandwich rolls were all blessings as well. We had so many people staying here that without disposable items, we would have been having to load and unload the dishwasher twice a day. It wouldn’t have been easy.

4) Mourners eat breakfast and snack more than they eat big meals. We were blessed with people who realized that and brought breakfast food and desserts. They were delicious and an easy way to face those times of the day and night when we needed something to pick us up.

5) Don’t ask questions. As open as we were about the fact that Laura committed suicide, we darn sure weren’t in the mood then, nor now, to share all the details of how and what she did. Only in writing this blog have I shared that she used a gun. The rest of the story is ours and if we wanted you to hear it, we would tell you.

6) Remember to call again.When the last out of town relatives and friends drove away that Sunday after the funeral, we sat there with a frightening silence.  I can’t say enough thanks to those people who realized we would need to feel they cared in the weeks and months that followed. I am a verbal person and talking about my daughter and my pain was cathartic. I’m forever grateful for those people who came later and just listened.

I’ve purposely left out how much Craig and his incredible family, especially our grandsons, saved our sanity during the darkness that enveloped our lives because many, if not most, people will not have a relationship like this to lean on, much less only a mile away.  After all, this page is a lesson plan, not an autobiography.

AND LASTLY — DO NOT EVER THINK THAT SUICIDE IS AN OPTION

Two months after Laura died a new medication hit the market that is being hailed as a wonder drug for bipolar sufferers. TWO MONTHS! I face those commercials on television with tears in my eyes to this day. I always will.

When Laura died she killed such a big part of her Daddy and me and we will never recover.  She changed the dynamic of our family with her absence and stole from the world all that she had to offer. It isn’t just our little girl buried out at Restland. It is Laura Michelle Weigel-  a sister, an aunt, a granddaughter, niece, teacher, and devoted friend. She was a woman who was always loving and always loved. We miss her and mourn her loss every single day.

In memory of Laura Michelle Weigel
January 16, 1973 ~ August 24, 2013

Oh, and one more thing….

Epilogue

I’ve mentioned Laura’s disease so many times that it finally occurred to me last night that I needed to add just a little bit more. Sadly, bipolar disease is hereditary. Neither Dennis, Craig nor I got that gene, but it is out there in the family tree and Laura lost that DNA lottery. She knew that; she saw what it did to people and led her to announce at age 20 that she would never have children because “this disease dies with me.” At the time we thought she would change her mind. We still remained blind to what was truly her life sentence.

Several years later when Craig blessed this family with his first son, Laura was overjoyed as we all were. But in a moment of candor that night she said to us, “You know I will never have a life like this. It is all I can do to take care of myself. I could never take care of another person.” By then we knew enough of her trials and realized she was being extremely self-aware. We were somewhat relieved. She lived alone for most of her 20s and 30s which led her to admit one night that, “I just can’t sustain a relationship. No one can live with me and my disease.” We worried night and day about her but she was an adult living life on her own terms. We settled for the names and numbers of two people who we could call if we were desperate to have someone physically go check on her condition. Although she had an incredible group of friends who loved her, they were all people who understood how she was and were willing to accept friendship as she had it to give. Being a “giver” was definitely one of her strongest traits when her mind allowed it.

Understand that there are many, probably thousands, of people with bipolar depression that marry, have children and live somewhat normal lives. In fact, I know two quite well. Laura wasn’t one of them.  New medications have come on the market constantly since she died and I hold out great hope that a more successful, longer lasting drug will be developed before we might ever have to face this again in our family.

Laura swallowed pills that didn’t make her well, only relieved symptoms for short periods before they lost their effectiveness. She was incredibly successful in two careers, a fact which amazes us to this day. She was loved by all of her family, an army of friends, and countless special education students who she adored. I only hope that she really knew that.

So, I will really end this time and ask that you “Think of Laura.” I know she’d want it that way. Please take a look here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpW5KnJ_7As