I just finished a post for our nonprofit and the last line simply smacked me right in the face: SUNDAY NIGHT LIES.
I’m sure many of you reading this understand what that means. You’re lying in bed trying to go to sleep and all of a sudden your brain starts telling you that you are worthless and have nothing to offer your friends or family. It reminds you that you haven’t even started the project at work that is due at the close of business tomorrow. It says why study for the test anymore, you’re too stupid to pass it anyhow. It tells you that you are a horrible mom or wife and you’re failing miserably at motherhood. It tells you that you are too fat, your hair is too thin or your nose is too big. You hear it say that no one will love you unless you are smart and pretty. It reminds you of how much of a burden you are to everyone around you and that they will be better off without you. It will be much easier, it says. And so much of this one sided poisonous conversation in your head happens on a Sunday night.
The Sunday before we lost Dani was one of the most incredible days of our life. Our sixth beautiful grandchild was born that day and we, as a family, were reeling with joy. This little angel who was so anticipated and wanted just lit up the cold winter day. To us, the world seemed to go still because of this precious little miracle. A new member of our family for us to love, dream about and watch grow.
Dani in particular was so in awe of this little baby for several reasons. Not only did this little pink angel look so much like Dani at birth, from her beautiful complexion to her dark head of hair, but the excitement of having a new niece for Dani to love prompted her to send a video message to her sister. Included in this very last message was her sharing that she could not wait to meet her and how exciting our lives will be with all the little kids running around at our family gatherings.
Within twelve hours of that treasured message Danielle was gone.
What happened between the Sunday afternoon hours of that video call to the wee hours after midnight that changed Dani’s thought process? She was so excited to meet her new niece. She signed a lease on a new apartment that day in an area closer to her friends. She was looking forward to her out of town boyfriend arriving the very next morning. She scheduled her therapist appointment for that Tuesday. A new career was on the horizon. Her Valentine’s Day date was set. She made so many plans. Yet she left us no clues as to why. The plans did not seem to matter anymore.
Yes, Sunday Night lied to her and in an instant our world was shattered into a million pieces that had no way of ever being put back together.
The ripples of that awful morning travelled far and wide. From her parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends, the pain reverberated through our souls and absolutely nothing could stop it. Word got out quickly and so many calls and messages were sent to Dani’s phone, email and to us. The heart wrenching screams and sobbing from her friends and family will remain embedded in my subconscious. The unbelievable terrifying moments that followed still feel like a nightmare. We walked in a fog and needed to be reminded to breathe, to eat, to sleep and to pray. Nothing in life prepares you for the decisions that need to be made when your child dies. Nothing.
I still question at times how did we navigate the earliest part of this journey. Christmas was just six weeks earlier and I know we were an incredibly happy family of 16. We have photos, videos and memories to prove it. But at that moment, they became just that, pictures, memories and possibly only a dream.
Our reality shifted in one huge Sunday Night Lie. And this lie would create pain, unanswered questions, what-ifs, why didn’t I’s and please God, just one more hug and one more chance to reach her and tell her how loved and important she is in our family. In our world.
We never got the chance and this may be one of the hardest realities of suicides and unexpected deaths. I have lost both of my parents and other very close relatives and I know the loss is never ever easy. Even if it is “expected” as in my moms case of her slow and painful fight with ovarian cancer. The grief is real and overwhelming and we have learned to never ever compare griefs. However, the loss to suicide just feels “different.” There is no closure and definitely there are no answers.
Vs. It doesn’t matter what time it is. You have so much value to people in your circle and to people you may just pass along in your journey of life. Please stay through the lies and pain. Stay through the tears and broken dreams. There is always hope, help and more dreams to make.
I love you. I want you to be here when the sun rises and the birds sing their morning song. I don’t want to miss you like I miss my beautiful first born daughter. I don’t want to comfort your mom, sister or friend if they lose you to a lie. God created us for a purpose and until your natural time to leave this earth comes, I want you to believe me.
You are the best and most beautiful you there ever was. For this I am thankful. Print those words. Write it on a piece of paper, your phone or write it on your bathroom mirror. Memorize it and repeat it over and over to yourself. YOU ARE THE BEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL YOU THERE EVER WAS.
12/4/23
**If you or someone you know is struggling and has lost hope, please call or text the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988.