From Lady Gaga’s mom and the Born This Way Foundation, important insights on the differing perceptions of parents and kids when communicating about mental health. I’ll be adding Born This Way to the suicide prevention/mental health resources section of our website.
@raderwardfoundation • Instagram
1 Likes, 1 Comments - @raderwardfoundation on Instagram: "Loving my second custom sewing order from @makemethat: a business card holder with the Rader Ward..."
Mario Music Monday: Super Mario jazz!
Mario Music Monday! YouTuber Luigi has put together this sweet playlist of Super Mario jazz covers. He includes the tracklist and credits if you're interested in more information about the artists.
@raderwardfoundation • Instagram
38 Likes, 1 Comments - @raderwardfoundation on Instagram: "Happy National Dog Day! Flashback to 2007 when BB graduated from PetSmart "dog school" with..."
Retweeted today from Cosmopolitan (@Cosmopolitan) | Twitter
from our Instagram: happy national waffle day!
24 Likes, 2 Comments - @raderwardfoundation on Instagram: "Happy National Waffle Day! You've already eaten? It's not too late. You can still enjoy one of our..."
like a pile of rocks
A recent writing prompt from Megan Devine (refugeingrief.com) included the following passage. “I was tired of well-meaning folks, telling me it was time I got over being heartbroke. ... (A death in the family) is like having a pile of rocks dumped in your front yard. Every day you walk out and see them rocks. They're sharp and ugly and heavy. You just learn to live around them the best way you can. Some people plant moss or ivy; some leave it be. Some folks take the rocks one by one, and build a wall.”
― Michael Lee West, American Pie
It's true that many (most?) people expect you to "get over" your loss at some point. We seem surprised at someone "still grieving" years after the death that dumped the pile of rocks in the front yard. "She's just never really gotten over it." How many times have you heard something like that said? Or even said it yourself? I have, back before I had my own pile of rocks.
What do you suppose such a "getting over it" looks like? Maybe they're expecting that we never will mention the name of the person who has died. That we won't get teary-eyed or choked up if we do talk about them. That our life will be about something else. The fact I have daily involvement with the foundation we started in Rader's memory— promoting mental health awareness, suicide prevention resources, and grief support, as well as our scholarship fund—is a sure indicator I haven't gotten over it. Right? I definitely have not moved on. Evidence: I'm writing this piece right now. "Still grieving." Rocks in my front yard.
I clearly remember when I was approaching the six-month mark from the day of Rader's suicide. Oh, how I wanted to stop time. You know why? Other people. I knew that when I reached six months, I would not have "just lost" my son. My terrible loss would begin to be viewed as something in the past, and I knew it would quickly continue to recede into what was perceived as the *distant* past. Six months would become a year, which it has. And people are noticeably less moved by anything when there's a little time and space around it.
Yet when my 15-year-old son, Rader, ended his life, it felt as if that pile of rocks was dumped not just in my front yard, but on ME. Imagine going along in your regular life, when suddenly you wake up under a pile of rubble. It sounds like I'm describing surviving an earthquake. So you come to, and you're under all these rocks. You try to make sense of it. What happened? How did I get here? You do a physical inventory: what parts are hurt, what can I move, what's just bruised and what serious injuries are there? Then you have to figure out how to begin. Who, if anyone, is going to help you get out from under? What extraordinary measures might you have to take to help save yourself? But then here's the next question. Once you're out of immediate danger, what will your ongoing recovery look like? In the parts of you that were crushed or gashed, how much function will you regain, and what kind of work over time will it take to get there?
Sorry, not sorry, world. I'm not getting over it. I'm not moving on. I never will have achieved "closure" to your satisfaction. I might not have "just lost" my son, but I always will have lost him. Maybe eventually, though, I will build something pretty with my pile of rocks.
taking steps on your journey through grief (Dr. Bill Hoy)
Fellow grievers in the South Carolina upstate, please consider attending this grief seminar hosted annually by Thomas McAfee Funeral Homes. Or if you know someone you think could benefit, please let them know about it. Last year's keynote speaker was excellent, and I expect no less this year.
The public session, Taking Steps on Your Journey Through Grief, is 6:45-9 p.m. Tuesday, Sept. 11, at TD Convention Center. Light refreshments are served. The brochure says:
While there are not really 'stages' in the grief process, there certainly are 'steps' one can take to manage the process most effectively in ways that make for a new positive view of life. Come join us as we discover together ...
* How the grief process works and how you can manage it
* What to say to well-meaning friends who have unhelpful advice
* Where to turn for additional support when needed
* What you can do now to grow through your experience with loss
whales, oceans, and what we carry
This week's writing prompt from Megan Devine (refugeingrief.com) was "whales, oceans, and what we carry." Here are my thoughts on that.
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I read the stories of J35 (Tahlequah), the grieving orca who carried her dead calf for 17 days in July and August as she swam with J pod in the Pacific. Seattle Times' environmental reporter Lynda V. Mapes posted daily updates for the first week or so, and occasional ones after that. Of the articles from various sources I read in those first few days, I found Mapes' to be the most interesting and factual, not engaging in sentimental speculation or anthropomorphism, as many other outlets' "fluff pieces" did. She interviewed scientists who study animal behavior, mammals, and orcas specifically. They concurred that J35's behavior was indeed grief-driven, that it wasn't entirely us projecting ourselves onto her actions and interpreting her through a human lens.
Since I am not writing a news story, I feel free to explore the metaphors called forth by the mourning orca. J35 literally carried her loss with her, the body of her dead child. According to the articles, it seemed she had the support of her pod as she continued to grieve in this way.
As a human in modern civilization, I did not have the choice of carrying the body of my dead child. Such things aren't done. I did not even get to see him the night he died. He was alive in the evening when I left, and he was not a couple of hours later when I came back to the flashing lights and activity that felt so incongruous with the utter stillness inside of me at the news of his suicide attempt. (I was not sure he was dead until I was told so after I reached home.) Hours later, someone—the coroner, one of the first responders—encouraged us not to watch as they carried his body out of our house after they had finished their work. First they had tried to save him, then they had done whatever investigation needed to happen, and now it was time to take him away. So, I walked down the street away from the house. I think that's when I called my dad to tell him Rader had taken his life. Slowly all the emergency vehicles cleared out, the neighbors (part of our pod!) went back home, and we were alone. Really truly alone. We only were alone that first night, I'd say from about 11 p.m. to about 7:30 a.m. That's a wild guess. Everything is such a blur. The other members of our pod started to arrive early in the morning, to help us carry what needed to be carried.
A couple of days later, at the funeral home, I was able to see Rader's body, touch his hair and face and hands. He was dressed in the clothes we chose for his cremation. It would not have been proper for me to attempt to pick him up, to carry him, at that time either. Also he weighed about the same as I do, and was taller—in a practical sense, I couldn't have carried him for long.
So if not the body of my child, what is it I carry? I suppose it's the weight of remembering him, seeing to it that he is remembered in this world. And all the contributions he would have made—if the crisis he was in had been survivable—those all are lost and will never be known. So also I carry the weight of doing the good in the world he doesn't get the chance to. I feel the need and desire and motivation to make not just my own contributions, but his. And the weight of my sadness; every day, I carry my sadness like a mantle on my shoulders. It's a garment I can't remove. I couldn't lay it down after 17 days, or 17 weeks. I won't be able to let it go at 17 months or 17 years.
But my loss has transformed me into someone who knows better, now, how to be part of a pod: to be present, to accompany, to support. Not to rush, judge, or abandon. It doesn't help to push someone in grief to "get over it," to "move on." No disapproving observations like "are you still ...?" or "you really should just ..." or "it's time you ...". J pod, they stuck with J35 as long as she carried her calf. They slowed down for her. That's what the pod does.
Mario Monday with Great Big Story
Mario Monday! This three-minute video from Great Big Story definitely made me smile on a tough day: today should be the first day of Rader's senior year of high school. ❤️💙💛
You know Mario—who could forget the cheery "woo-hoos!" of Nintendo's most beloved video game character? Now meet Charles Martinet, the voice behind the iconic mustachioed man. It turns out, Martinet not only voiced Mario, he also created the voices for Wario, Luigi and even Donkey Kong!
coping with grief through creativity
Here's an article from author Megan Devine ("It's OK That You're Not OK") on expressing grief through creativity. Since losing Rader, I've made the effort to take classes in making chocolates, macarons, bread and herbed butters; in enameling, ceramics, marbling and book binding, and lost wax casting. Each method of expression helped in its own way. But writing is the practice I come back to every day, since joining Devine's 30-day "Writing Your Grief" course in January.
"At its best," Devine says, "I think all the arts allow us to tell ourselves our own story. The canvas or the page or the theater is always willing, always open to receive, and to mirror back, that which needs to be said. It's a gesture from the inner world to the outer one."
That's been the key for me. When I can express my inner world in the outer world, it sets a part of me free.
today on our Instagram
“Suicide is the long shadow over the lives and stories of its survivors. But a shadow can only exist if, somewhere, a bright light shines.” — Harold Ivan Smith, A Long-Shadowed Grief: Suicide and Its Aftermath
#survivorsofsuicide #redwoodforest #ladybirdjohnsongrove #hope #bookrecommendation #raderwardfoundation
#haroldivansmith
from NAMI: college and your mental health
National Geographic covers face transplant resulting from suicide attempt
I went back and forth over whether to share this story of an 18-year-old who lost her face but survived an impulsive suicide attempt. It was hard to read and left me with a lot to think about. This sidebar I've linked to explores, in part, the intersection of journalism and suicide. Links to the main story and other related features are within.
book recommendations section is up!
Today I’d like to share the newest page on our website, book recommendations! We received many books from thoughtful friends after Rader died, and others I sought out myself to meet specific needs. There are books about losing a child, losing a loved one to suicide, other kinds of loss, and healthy grieving. There's even one on the list I recommend for everyone in any circumstance. Please take a look!
new resource for youth suicide prevention
"Dum Spiro Spero," the South Carolina state motto. "While I breathe, I hope."
It also is the motto of a fantastic resource I just learned about, the South Carolina Youth Suicide Prevention Initiative. SCYSPI is all about education. They believe suicide is largely preventable through greater access to information and resources. They send speakers throughout the state and offer training in a variety of programs proven effective in talking about and reducing suicide.
They have an information-packed website—scyspi.org—that includes printable materials, and also maintain an active Twitter feed, Instagram, and Facebook page.
Mario Monday with LEGO!
Everyone in our family loves LEGO (I mean, who doesn't, really?). Rader's latest builds were from the Minecraft collection. I think he would have been so interested in the thought process, research, and planning this guy did for his Odyssey build.
AFSP guidelines for safe reporting of suicide
scholarship fund update
Those of you who were with us from the beginning know that what is now the Rader Ward Foundation was first simply a fundraiser to provide scholarships to the school where Rader spent the happiest days of his life, Montessori School of Mauldin.
Barring unforeseen complications, the foundation should have nonprofit approval from the IRS by around the first of October. When we hear from them, we will activate the scholarship application online and announce it prominently on our Facebook page and here on the website! We will offer scholarships for creative kids in need, to three local Montessori schools.
If you're a Publix grocery shopper in any location, you can easily support Montessori School of Mauldin now through the Publix Partners program. Publix Partners formerly used plastic cards with barcodes to be scanned at checkout, but has moved to a digital platform. If you have a Publix account online for digital coupons and such, it's easy to affiliate yourself with the school so they receive a percentage of your purchase as a donation.
Go to publix.com and log in (top left) or create an account. Click your name (top left) and then "Go to my account." In the middle column at the bottom is "My Publix Partner." Choose "Select a school" and then type in Mauldin. Montessori School of Mauldin is at the bottom of the drop-down list. Choose it, click Select, and you're all set! We thank you for contributing to a wonderful school that was so important to Rader.
celebrating national s'mores day on instagram
24 Likes, 2 Comments - @raderwardfoundation on Instagram: "Happy National S'mores Day! Marshmallows were one of Rader's favorite treats, and he especially..."