Nothing makes sense

Once again I wake up to pain that is unbearable. The realization that Kaitlyn deliberately took her beautiful light and self away from us all hits me with the weight of the world. I cannot describe the pain that a mother feels when their child takes their own life. It’s a pain I never thought possible. I always thought that if I lost one of my children, it would hurt so bad I would simply lay down and die. But something worse happened, I lived. I had to live to go take care of having her body released from the hospital hours away from here. I had to live to go to her apartment the very day we found out and pick out what she was to be buried in, trying desperately to find what she had last bought with us the weekend before that she loved, but I could never find them. I had to live to take care of her funeral arrangements and get what I thought she would have liked. I had to live to go pick out the spray of flowers that was put on top of her casket. I had to live to see the kind and loving people that visited us and brought food and comforting words. I had to live to see my baby for the first time after she died laying there lifeless in that casket I picked out. I had to live through the visitation that so many of our and her friends came to that I am so grateful for. I had to live for her funeral. I don’t remember much about the funeral except hugs and loving words and flowers. And walking away leaving her casket behind. I had to live to go back to her apartment to clean out all the precious things in her life. Her furniture that we had so much fun letting her pick out. All the pictures, her clothes that smelled of her scent, the washer and dryer we bought her. The fancy cooking things and fancy plates where she served her nice meals that she so lovingly cooked. This was pure hell, but I refused to let others do it. She was mine, this was her stuff. I didn’t want anyone else going through it other than my husband. I had to live to find just the right tombstone that was good enough for her. I looked so hard for the right one. I had to live to help take care of all her remaining business matters. That’s why I lived. No one else would I leave these things to. So now that that’s all done, I live only day by day going through excruciating pain that I don’t know what to do with other than write about, and cry about, and try to talk about. I live to ask myself questions, to call out to God to give me the answers of why would someone with so much promise, well on her way to a wonderful career as a doctor, had wonderful hobbies she enjoyed, had close friends, had made plans for that upcoming weekend, had just bought new clothes, was dreaming of her graduating med school and she had the whole world in her hands. Never a hint of depression, never. These questions do not leave my mind as they are mingled with the sheer agony of losing my youngest child, my kindred spirit
I still grab her things and run my hands over them knowing that she has touched them hundreds of times, I try to feel her in them and I cry over them. I cry oceans of tears over her clothes not yet washed (and never will be) in her basket. Last night I picked them up one by one and imagined her wearing them last. But even their scent is leaving. I cry over her things, literally, I bend over them, grab them, hold them to me and I cry the cry of utter heartbreak.

The other day I found a picture album that she had when she was a little girl. It was kept with some of her old things and not with all my other picture albums so I had not seen it probably since she made it. It held pictures of a time when she was a little girl up until she was pre-teen. I had pictures of her with her friends at sleep overs, all those faces, including hers, smiling out from those pictures with the sheer joy of living, of having friends. Some of them, she cut out the pictures except for the people. She cut around them so expertly, like the people were the only things that were ever in the picture, nothing left of the background. Expertly, like she did everything else. Happy faces. Could this have hid a sad child?
Does a sad child dive into everything she does with gusto and happiness just at the sheer joy of doing it? When she was little if she had just been assigned a science project or something, we could not go home until we went and bought all the materials for it the very day it was assigned, and she would start on it that night. Would an unhappy child have good friends that she loved and had wonderful experiences with? Would a sad teenager continue to achieve so much and be the highest achiever in her class and be depressed? Would a depressed teenager go about applying for colleges and dreaming of the right one to go to and have fun doing it? Would a depressed person do all the many, many achievements that she did, and be depressed? How can you do much of anything and be depressed? But she said in her last letter that she was. I find it hard to believe, but I also find it hard to believe that she would lie in the final words that she gave to us.

She threw so much away that night she left us. She threw away only 2 more years of medical school, a residency, a promising career, things that some can only dream of, that she dreamed of all her life. She threw away the person that so many people loved and thought and knew what an amazing woman she was. I feel robbed. I feel totally robbed of a person I cherished and loved more than there are words for. Oh what made her do it? She threw it ALL away. What kind of dark depths she must have sunk to to do this final thing. So final.

For many, many years, my prayers always included for God to please help my children make good decisions, and please keep them both safe, happy, and healthy. I prayed this at least twice a day, sometimes more. I don’t pray that anymore. I don’t even pray. What’s the use, what was the use? I’m sorry but I’m a little angry right now, I’ve had a gift of this wonderful creature in my life for 23 years. I had the wonderful gift of watching her become this amazing person and I got to go along for the ride and see it all and love her more and more every day. I got the gift of seeing her bright future looming before my eyes. All the world going to hell in a hand basket, but this girl had it figured out. She was going straight to the top. She was wonderful. Then I had that gift ripped from my life so abruptly, so tragically. So unbelievably that I am left with bitter anger at it (not her) and gut wrenching grief. I make no apologies for the way I feel. I don’t trust the good things in life anymore; I can’t even see the good things in life anymore. Why? Love them too much and they are taken. Such an unfair world.


About gatito2

My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
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13 Responses to Nothing makes sense

  1. Marie Sellers says:

    Every word you write, describes what we all go through when we lose our Baby. They all go different but when they’re gone they’re gone. It will soon be twenty years since I lost mine and it still just as hard to live without him. I don’t know how I’ve lived…


  2. Paula Roney says:

    I read your words and I grieve, cry, and ache with you. I cannot began to imagine the depth of your heartbreak. I am so very, very sorry for your precious loss. I hope that in some way you can sense my prayers through your pain. If ever I can do anything to help in some way, I am here. I didn’t know Kaitlyn, but I did meet her at their high school graduation dinner. I know her only through my son, Ian McPherson. He always spoke highly of her, and loved her dearly as his friend.
    Again, I cannot imagine the depth of grief, pain, and sorrow you must deal with each day, but as a mother myself, I pray that God will meet you where you are and hold you close in His arms.


  3. gatito2 says:

    I don’t know how I’ll live either.


  4. gatito2 says:

    Thank you.


  5. gatito2 says:

    Paula I remember that dinner and meeting you. Ian came to visit us last week and he was like a dose of medicine for us. He knew Kaitlyn very well (though not of her depression) and they were alike in many ways, Both so very intelligent and mature. They were best friends for years in high school and then at Campbell, and even though they had to go their seperate ways, he to grad school, she to med school, they still stayed in touch. He is a very fine young man. I know they meant a lot to each other.


  6. Ray says:

    I am sorry to hear about your daughter. I am a parent myself and couldn’t imagine losing a child, I attempted suicide last year, and thankfully I lived. I never thought of it from the side of what you have described here. I had tears in my eyes reading your story. I can tell you something overtook my mind and body that day and I was not myself. It was the saddest day of my life. Thank you for shedding light on the survivors of someone who takes their life.

    Again, I’m sorry for your loss.


  7. gatito2 says:

    Thank you Ray, and I’m so glad you didn’t succumb to what depression can do to someone, a final act. I think when people are far down (I suffer from depression too, but I seek treatment, where my daughter did not and hid it), they are in such pain that everything they have good in their life, they can’t see, nor can they see the pain and suffering they will leave behind. Keep in touch, I’m following your blog.


  8. Your pain is so fresh…..After reading your story, my heart breaks with yours. My daughter was 33 and died suddenly last August of a heart attack. She left behind her 5 year old son. I, like you discovered things about her when I cleaned out her apt. I wouldn’t allow anybody else to do it except my husband. She had a troubled life, and I would constantly pray for her. At one time, I even fasted while I was praying. I always had hope that she would turn her life around. There’s always hope, right? Since she passed away, all of my hopes have been robbed. I have 3 other children. Do I continue to pray for them? Do I have hopes and dreams for them? It’s been 9 months for me. I’m struggling very hard with my faith. I struggle to pray for my other children, and grandchildren. All I can think is that she was never mine. God made sure that I knew that when she left this world. She wasn’t even allowed to raise the only child she was able to carry to term. He watched her die. He tried to help her up when she collapsed. My heart screams out……GOD WHY??!! Only He knows.
    I can honestly say this with all sincerity…..I know your pain. I feel it. I wish I didn’t. I wish you didn’t. Keep writing. I, like you have a website through wordpress where I write. I also post my daughter’s writings from her journals. It truly helps me. I only started doing it last month. Sometimes, I don’t go there because I just want to sit a my computer and cry.
    It really helps to know others like us who we can share with.
    I’ll keep in touch, and I’ll follow your blog.


  9. gatito2 says:

    I am so sorry you’ve had to go through this pain also. It is absolutely horrible and I see no end in sight. I hope you do find comfort in some way though, I hope we all do.


  10. re says:

    Our feelings are mirroring each other.. I did fall asleep last night before getting to this particular post and today I wrote similar thoughts. How can I trust that things will ever be ok.. again?? Why have faith that nothing bad will happen when it already HAS.. My heart breaks for you as I understand. Much love to you.


  11. lensgirl53 says:

    My prayer life has changed drastically, and shamefully I have been angry at God…not my son. I prayed to God not to ever allow me to outlive any of my children. I prayed for Brandon’s sadness….I re-read my prayer journals thinking that maybe I had left something out..that I had not made it clear to God what I wanted for my children. Still I do not know why my prayers were not answered as I would have wanted…so, I must trust that God had other plans and that His plans are perfect and that He loves my child even more than I do…after all, He sent His only Son to die for me and my children. God will get us through this and then one day we will be reunited with our children in the perfection that awaits. I hold onto that hope. Meanwhile, I have started just saying the Lord’s Prayer and not always praying for My will but rather, His will. Even my own son’s prayer journals from years past when he was still at home right before he married have pleas to God “not to let me destroy myself” over lost love…and yet, that would be the way my son died. I cannot understand but God says, “Your ways are not My ways, your thoughts are not My thoughts…” so we must trust and have faith. I have decided this is the ultimate test of faith. I am sure of it. I hope you will have peace soon. xo


  12. gatito2 says:

    I think your son fought very hard to stay alive. I think my daughter also fought very hard to stay alive only I knew nothing about it. Yes, I have this anger at God right now, but I think he understands and is letting me work through it. I still believe in him because I’m so angry at him he has to be real. I do hope with all my heart that Kaitlyn is in his presence and is in paradise. I do hope this with all my heart. If I did not think she was in that place, I don’t think I could live, so I have not lost faith completely. I’m just going through this anger that is mixed in with the most horrendous grief. I certainly don’t understand his ways, but hopefully one day I will….on the other side.

    Thank you for your kind words.


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