[Originally published in The Sun Chronicle]
“Love u 2.”
That was the last text message I sent to my mom.
One week later, on Nov. 17, 2010, I found out she had died by suicide.
I held the phone to my ear and heard my uncle saying ridiculous things like “your mother is dead” and “she left bags and notes on the kitchen counter.” I wanted to scream. Instead, I sobbed and pictured myself shattering into pieces.
The weeks and months that followed were a blur, a surreal and exhausting whirlwind of activity that kept me focused on resolving the tangible aspects of my mother’s death: selling her house, her car, her furniture and all of her possessions, meeting with lawyers and bank representatives, filling out forms, canceling credit cards and magazine subscriptions until I had uttered the words “my mother has died” so many times they started to lose their meaning.
Continue reading “Bringing suicide out of the shadows and into the light”
