If You Are Feeling Suicidal Or You Need To Talk Call The National Lifeline 1-800 273-8255
While Dempsey Rice shared her story with us about her documentary: Daughter of Suicide, I took time off from the blog to write an Op-Ed piece for the New York Times, which I have just submitted.
I wrote it in an effort to raise the volume of our collective voice. The voice of those of us working, praying, hoping, and helping any way we can, to see more life and less suicide.
The New York Times receives over twelve hundred submissions a week, while space in the paper is limited to one Op-Ed a day, seven a week. Andrew and all your new friends, do your thing and let’s get it published.
Talking about Andrew doing his thing, his thing is the thing he does with the CD in the car.
And before some of you out there get all bent out of shape because you don’t believe in ADC, After Death Communications, let me tell you that no matter what you think or say, you know what you know, and I know what I know. Having said that, since this a dialogue-promoting blog, you are welcome to comment.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes the CD thing. I wrote a while ago, that one day, sorrowful in every cell of my body and with my heart pumping tears instead of blood, I got in the car and immediately the CD, Century Child by his favorite band, Nightwish, popped out by itself.
I knew it was Andrew’s energy that had done it. I turned the car on, pushed the CD back, turned the CD player on, and cried some more. But I was happy that my son had shown me, in a tangible way, that he was with me.
So, now, whenever I need to be reminded that he’s only gone from sight, he does the CD thing.
And let me tell about one of the variations, like a morse code, that he does with this CD communications.
After yoga class one day, I got in the car, but before I even strapped my self in, or started the car, the Nightwish CD (his favorite band) popped out, popped itself in, in and out, in and out three times in quick succession while I looked on, amazed. And here’s the thing, when this kind of thing happens, I do feel joy, yet I cry even more, with a mixture of gratitude and sorrowful wonder.
My daughter on the other hand, has wonderful dreams and visions instead, maybe because she never nagged him about tidying up his room as I did. But then she was as untidy as he was.
No, seriously, as young children they were like peas in a pod. Then when they were ten and twelve they quarreled and got mad at each other, like the time when the argued over a stuffed carrot. Florentina snatched it, run to her room, slammed and locked the door behind her. Not to be bested, with the help of a screw driver and his younger brother, Andrew took the door off its hinges. Summoned by the commotion, when we got there, wide-eyed and jaws dropping, it took Hugh and I a moment to “get it.” But when we did, both of us had a hard time keeping a straight face.
Anyway, the point is that the children were not just brother and sister, they were best friends, they doted on one another, and, being the older of the two, Florentina was protective and always ready to help him.
Andrew, thank you for visiting your sister and doing what you can to help her and us on our grieving journey.
I know, we know that there has always been love in your big, kind, generous heart.
You, who never killed a fly, must have been driven by a very nasty, scary demon to kill yourself.
How we wish we could have fought it with you.
Lots of love and kisses my darling,
P.S. I just spoke with Florentina, and she explained to me that the reason for snatching the stuffed carrot from Andrew was that he was not being very nice to it, and little Robert apparently was in on it as well.
What can I tell you, children… 😉