Wow! Four hundred days have gone by!
The first thought that barges into my head each morning, even today, is that Saagar chose to end his own life. He didn’t even say good-bye. He died alone. How could I have not known he was so ill? Where did I go wrong? Was my love not enough?
Slowly, over the last year or so, some of my friends and relatives have receded into the background whereas some of my acquaintances have really shown up. I don’t know what it is that stops some people from acknowledging this tragedy. Maybe they’ve moved on. Maybe it is their own inability to deal with it. The very thought of it must terrify them. Or else, this may be their idea of being considerate towards me. Best not to ‘remind’ me of this awful reality. I don’t expect anything of anyone but it is interesting to observe the attitudes and understand what lies behind them. Maybe no one talks about it simply because it is a taboo subject. I find that even when people do talk about it, they furtively look around first, to make sure there aren’t many people around and then softly whisper…………that is just how it is.
Sometimes I wonder what the biggest lesson for me in all of this is. Each time the first answer is : Be in this moment. The one that is right here in front of you. Own it. Live it. Cherish it.
I remember seeing Saagar for the first time as a 3 kilo bundle on the day he was born and thinking – “You adorable creature! I love you so much. I could die for you.” I have had the same thought many millions of times since then. If all that was required to keep him alive was love, he wouldn’t have died in a million years.
Whenever the old treacherous storm of emotions of guilt, regret and anger arises within me, it is a real battle. My awareness has to work its way against very harsh forces to find a place in my consciousness. It takes time but eventually I get past it with the strength of love.
This is my mantra: Stay with the love. Stay with the love. xxx
I think that love is the most important thing there is, I wish it conquered bipolar. Everything is palliative and it’s such a tricky bastard of an illness, that it kicks us in the head anyway. You didn’t do anything wrong.
My son also died by suicide and also suffered from bipolar, he was 25. I miss him every hour of every day. Thank you for writing this and helping to keep my.son’s memory alive.