I mourn differently from my wife and my children. I have learned that we all mourn differently. Learning to accept differences and to be less judgmental and more loving have been other challenging aspects of coping with Ariel’s suicide. I, myself, have felt the need to look outward, to share my experience and feelings with others, and to become actively involved in suicide prevention. However, the rest of my family has moved inward. They are more private than I, and each of them has their own sense of loss, pain, anger, and guilt. They each ride through in their own way. I will refrain from speaking of my children’s experience in order to honor their decision to remain private.
However, while I respect our differences, I regret that we did not undergo family therapy after Ariel ended his life. Instead, we all did separate, individual therapy – which is strongly recommended – but for many reasons did not engage in family therapy, and to this day, almost nine years later, we still have great difficulty sharing with one another how we each cope with our loss. All major events such as Ariel’s birthday, the yahrzeit ceremony at Mitzpe Ariel, and the annual fundraising campaign for the Jerusalem Battered Women’s Shelter in memory of Ariel’s birthday are not done as a family. We love each other immensely and enjoy spending time together, but we remain an incomplete and, in some ways, fractured family. How could it be otherwise? We are missing a brother and a son.
The gaping hole is a forever thing.
The journey of loss is a forever thing.
Time does not heal. The pain just morphs into different forms. My journey is now more like a bike path with a relatively easy slope, but one that never ends. Sometimes I ride with friends, but then I ride home – alone – and feel the aloneness and the loss forever. There is no coffee at the end.