Jean Donlan: Lessons learned in the 5 years since I lost my daughter to suicide

In the last 20-plus years over five different jobs, I’ve worked closely with people who lost a dearly loved one to suicide. Mandy lost her fiancé, Kevin. Patty lost her dad, Richard, when she was just a senior in high school. Macy lost her big brother, Tyler. Sarah lost her young husband. And Ashley lost her beloved brother, Justin.

Five years ago, my husband and I lost our smart, funny, kind, sensitive daughter Natalie to suicide just a few days shy of her 23rd birthday. Is this just a sad coincidence? Some divine plan that brought suicide loss survivors together? A more likely explanation is that suicide loss touches all of us. Sadly, we don’t want — or don’t know how — to talk about it. And that is probably what we need most: an honest conversation about suicide and loss.

In my role as office administrator of the Indiana Judges and Lawyers Assistance Program, I humbly appreciate this opportunity to share four things I’ve decided for myself in the time since we lost Natalie.

1. Loss is loss.

After Natalie died, I attended a local support group for Survivors of Suicide Loss (SOS). Everyone in that room talked about missing their person, replayed the last days/months/years of their loved one’s life, and expressed guilt over what they should have done differently, sooner, or better. While I would never want another family to suffer a loss like ours, the SOS meetings helped me realize we weren’t alone. I also attended GriefShare, a faith-based grief support group where I was the only participant who had lost someone to suicide. Yet, I heard the exact same conversations. Everyone talked about missing their person and reliving their last days. They beat themselves up with questions and regrets: Why hadn’t they noticed the symptoms earlier, sought out a different doctor, prevented their son from buying that motorcycle or protected their daughter from the workplace shooting that took her life.

It was a stark realization that we had the same “why” and “if only” conversations, no matter how our loved one died. My grief is no greater or less than if Natalie had died suddenly in an auto accident, after a long illness or due to struggling with an addiction. So, when I tell our family’s story, I share boldly. I don’t allow a fear of stigma to silence the conversation.

2. Much of this life is a mystery.

Research tells us there are risk factors that lead to suicide — trauma, substance use, mental illness, serious physical illness, situational stressors, moral injury, isolation, etc. But there is no explanation that would have satisfied this mother’s heart as I watched my children (Stuart, Julia and Mitchell) eulogize the sister they adored and admired. I remind myself that the “why” of Natalie’s short life and manner of her death are a mystery that I will never understand in my lifetime, and I embrace this mystery. I am grateful for my faith that assures me Natalie is at peace and I will see her again. But I don’t have to be a believer to entertain the possibility that there’s more to this life than just what I can see. Survivors of near-death experiences consistently describe feelings of serenity, joy, warmth, detachment from the body, encounters with a bright light and seeing deceased relatives. Even in the midst of our loss, when I embrace the mystery of this life and what happens after our physical death, I experience a peace that surpasses my own understanding. As comedian Pete Holmes would say it, I “find wonder and freedom in the unknown.”

3. Loss changed me.

I am a profoundly different person for having loved and lost Natalie. But I get to choose the change. Singer and pop culture icon Cher’s mother wisely told her, “If it won’t matter in five years, it doesn’t matter today.” In the five years since Natalie died, my perspective has changed. What used to fluster me, annoy me and upset me just isn’t important now. Life will never stop challenging me. I can watch the news and know that one tragedy does not exempt me from future ones. But I’m both stronger and gentler now. My greatest fear as a mother was realized when Natalie died, and I’m still standing. Against all odds, my husband (Jim) and I will celebrate 35 years of marriage this fall, and our kids are doing good things with their lives. Losing Natalie informs the way I do my job at JLAP, where our team supports legal professionals through difficult times, maybe even their worst of times. When I take a call for help, I ensure there’s no judgment and no shame in the struggle.

4. Love never ends.

It is the most powerful force in the world, transcending time and space. Many years ago, I was told that the only thing of importance in this life is our ability to love and to be loved. So, I remember the love that Natalie and I shared. I kiss her picture every day. I talk to Natalie and send her texts. I talk about her and laugh at old stories. And of course, I cry. Some call them triggers, but I welcome the unexpected moments that remind me of Natalie. I catch glimpses of her everywhere. In her favorite Starbucks Pink Drink, in our French Bulldogs that she pampered, in peaches and crab legs, in music and dancing. I keep Natalie and our love close to me, and our bond is still strong. Liza Minnelli recently wrote about her mother, Judy Garland, who died in 1969: “My beautiful mother is still here with me. She always will be. Through the good times and bad. We talk to each other every day. And we laugh like hell.”

I’ve missed Natalie every minute since she left us. I will grieve the loss of my sweet, beautiful girl every day for the rest of my life. If you too have lost someone you love to suicide, I hope you will honor your person and your love by carrying your grief alongside happier times. We all deserve that.

I’ve heard it said, “Before you can dry another’s tears, you too must weep.” If you have thoughts of suicide, please talk to someone. Call or text 988. There is help and hope for you! And if you are struggling with a loss — any loss — reach out to the community of those who have wept and are ready to help dry your tears.•

__________

Donlan is the office administrator at JLAP. If you or a legal professional could use assistance, contact JLAP at [email protected] or at 317-833-0370.