The day that she decided to die began as insignificantly as any other. My children were young and the usual rush revolved around nappy changes, breakfast and Playschool. At 11 a.m. I waited for her call. She had started to call three or four times a day. It was a minor inconvenience that I accepted. She was my mother after all. Only my mother would use the landline.
I checked the time on my mobile phone: 12.30 p.m. and still no word. I dialed her number, marveling at how the numbers made a little pattern on the keypad; the tool I used to memorise it when I was a child. It rang out. I tried her mobile and had no luck. The kids needed their lunch, clothes needed washing and the usual humdrum of domesticity stilled my mind, for a few hours.
A month earlier I had received a call – the telephone seemed to be the method by which all bad news was delivered – from her husband.
‘Tell your mum I won’t be home tonight,’ his voice cracked, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t explain right now.’ Click, the phone went dead.
I dialed her telephone number, only this time there was no marveling at the pattern. I was to be the bearer of bad news, though she would not fly into a Shakespearean rage and shoot the messenger, rather it would be the moment when our roles were to be reversed; she would become the child and I, her mother figure.
‘Mum, it’s me, look I’m so sorry but Steve just called me, he thought you might be worried about him.’ I heard her exhale a sigh that spoke of both concern and relief. ‘I’m sorry mum but he’s not coming home, he said he’ll call you…’
As the weeks passed my mother became unrecognizable. On the outside she was the same beautiful woman. She even presented herself as calm and composed to her friends, but to me she was able to be herself: a heartbroken woman who was dangerously on the edge.
The weekend before the day she decided to die, we went away together. Her marriage was over and I listened as she spoke of her pain again and again. She didn’t cry, rather she wasn’t really there, she was trapped inside her grief and she could see no way to escape. We slept together as we had when I was a young girl; I cuddled her as I would with my young daughter. I played our childhood game, spelling out words on her back with my fingers for her to guess; I wrote the word ‘love’ over and over. Her heart was broken and mine was too.
She went home and I thought she was better for our time together. It was an uneducated arrogance of mine. Depression is a much greater beast and I was a mere foot solider in her battle. Only she could slay this beast now living inside her.
The day had arrived, the one that she decided she could no longer live with the pain anymore. Only a miracle happened that day; a friend found her barely conscious and rushed her to hospital. I don’t really believe that she wanted to die; rather she just wanted to silence the noise and numb the pain.
This happened ten years ago. Ten years that have been filled with anxiety and heartache. I cannot imagine life without my beautiful mother and although at times I find her now twice daily phone calls a challenge, they are a reminder about how blessed I am to still have her in my life. To her friend, I am forever indebted. Thank you.
January 14, 2015 at 12:18 am
This read was unexpectedly cathartic. The vivid imagery of depression as an unconquerable beast had me frightened for your mother. I am overjoyed your mother is still with us.
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January 15, 2015 at 7:47 pm
Thanks for your kind words. 🙂
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January 14, 2015 at 2:19 pm
We must never under estimate the force of depression. A thought provoking piece, thank you
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January 15, 2015 at 2:26 am
I love that you hit all ends of the emotion spectrum. Very touching and quite vivid.
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January 15, 2015 at 3:35 am
It’s frightening how things can change in such a short amount of time. I’m glad your mom go the help she needed in time.
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January 15, 2015 at 7:48 pm
It taught me a lesson about really living in the moment and appreciating all of the small things. There are always positives to situations like these. 🙂
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January 16, 2015 at 6:11 am
I found you through the Community Pool and I am so glad I did! This story was remarkably well written and it had so much emotion in it that as the reader, I could feel your worry, anxiety, and heartache. Depression is a hard subject to talk about and even harder to face. I have respect for your mother who is fighting that battle and respect for you for not pushing her out of your life. I look forward to reading more of your posts!
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January 16, 2015 at 7:20 am
Van, I wept after reading this… a lovely, heartfelt expression of your mums pain and of your own too – all bound up in love – the precious love that exists between a mother and daughter
Thank you for sharing xo
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January 22, 2015 at 12:10 am
Incredibly well done. Thank you for writing and sharing this.
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January 23, 2015 at 3:26 am
This breaks my heart, but at the same time it’s so brave to write this and the note you finished on makes me feel all tingly inside. Thank you so much for sharing.
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February 2, 2015 at 3:00 pm
Wowsa. Beautifully told. Recognise a lot.
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February 2, 2015 at 3:07 pm
Thanks for commenting, I am sorry that you can recognise something in this. Life is fragile but inspirational.
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February 2, 2015 at 3:09 pm
Written with compassion and understanding, both hard to learn when it is your own mother in the grip of such pain. Hugs to you for your willingness to share. Keep up the great writing!
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February 11, 2015 at 8:30 pm
Oh my God! I am so glad you both got a second chance. I had a dear friend I lived this dread with for years. One day I got the horrible call from her nineteen year old son. I had wondered if anyone would even know to call me since she’d cut all her friends off. He went down all the numbers on her cell phone. I still miss her. Thanks for writing this. I am so glad your mother lived.
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February 11, 2015 at 8:45 pm
I am sorry you have experienced such tragedy and I can only imagine your friend’s poor son’s heartbreak. Thanks for sharing and for your kind words. 🙂
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March 3, 2015 at 6:25 am
This entry is beautifully written…a refreshingly honest yet uplifting post about the realities of depression. Definitely will be following your blog!
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March 9, 2015 at 3:45 pm
My heart got stuck in my throat and tears started welling, and I am so relieved that your mother is still alive! How is she now? Did she receive any professional help? What a beautifully loving daughter you are…such a gift. Bless you and your family xo
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March 9, 2015 at 5:28 pm
Thanks for your kind comments and wishes. She is far from that broken woman today, but sadly will live a with a touch of loneliness and grief for the rest of her life. My support and understanding has really helped her.
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March 18, 2015 at 3:32 pm
Reblogged this on HarsH ReaLiTy and commented:
Thanks for sending me the link and allowing me to read this. -OM
Note: Comments disabled here, please visit their blog.
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March 18, 2015 at 3:38 pm
Beautifully written
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March 18, 2015 at 3:40 pm
Wow… what a scare… I can not imagine how that must feel…
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March 18, 2015 at 4:06 pm
Beautifully rendered..!!
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March 18, 2015 at 4:09 pm
Chills…. I am so happy that her friend found her in time. What a tragic and horrible loss that would have been. Every moment is now a blessing.
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March 18, 2015 at 4:23 pm
Many thanks to Harsh Reality @ http://aopinionatedman.com for sharing. I hope the message delivered is that it is important to share how you feel, even if it’s only to one person. Thanks for reading 🙂
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March 18, 2015 at 4:41 pm
It’s very sad. But its beautiful writing. The fact that you had to pen it breaks my heart. Mothers are the only people on the planet who know you better than you do yourself. I can’t imagine a day without her though I know that I take her for granted many a times. But you know the best fo you comes out when you’re at your worst. This is beautiful.
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March 19, 2015 at 2:20 pm
Thanks. Writing about it has been very cathartic, it’s like we can move on now.
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March 18, 2015 at 4:58 pm
Depression is a monster and can take many years to eliminate.
Happy that you still have your mother today. I’m also grateful to have a supporting daughter, as were my big support that time. You kind daughters are our gold.
Irene
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March 18, 2015 at 5:28 pm
Only last month I received a phone call from my sister-in-law “Suzy, you need to do something. There is something going on with Mum”. I tried calling her. The phone rang out. I tried calling my step father on both the home line and his mobile. The phone rang out. I was desperate. I packed a few things and my family and I were in the car and on the road for a two hour drive within 20 minutes. Throughout the drive I kept calling. My brother called to say that he had sent a friend of his around to their home and that they were ok but something wasn’t right. My step-father finally called and told me that they had had an argument and switched the phones off. My mother yelled at me to stay away. I continued on and found them both in the grip of a depressive episode. My step father hadn’t answered the phone because he was out driving with the intent of putting the car over a cliff but something made him turn around and come home. My mother was so bad she was sobbing uncontrollably. I became the mother to them both.
I spent the night and countless hours talking to both of them.
It’s a long road but they know that they aren’t alone and although I sometimes roll my eyes when the phone rings, I am happy to know that the phone can still ring.
My heart goes out to you. I know the pain and it is so very real.
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March 19, 2015 at 7:41 am
What a moving story. Thanks for sharing. I hope your mum and step father are further down that road to recovery today.
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March 18, 2015 at 5:36 pm
Reblogged this on Jin Okubo and commented:
I know this may be a bit off topic but why is it always she that went away. We never truly hear much about the day that he went away and call remembrance to our fathers and brothers. Not much that I could say never having met my father but still that is what this made me think.
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March 19, 2015 at 7:43 am
Thanks for reblogging. It is important that men get the message that it is important to ask for help too. I can imagine that as many men suffer as women, perhaps even more privately as they struggle to share their pain.
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March 19, 2015 at 10:25 am
So true
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March 18, 2015 at 8:55 pm
This is a wonderful post. You put across the complete feel of the situation. You are a strong and good daughter. As you say thank God for your mum’s friend. It must be hard to run your life and keep an eye on your mum. You are doing so well. Xxx
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March 18, 2015 at 9:38 pm
Oh what a heart-breaking story – thankfully though with a happy ending. It must have been so traumatic for you all. Thank God for your mum’s friend, I hope that time has healed a few of her wounds and that she is coping better now.
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March 18, 2015 at 11:10 pm
As a survivor of something similar this story really resonated with me, I’m glad your mother is still with us. Divorce is pure hell and until you have been in that rabbit hole no one can fully appreciate the mental toll it takes on a person.
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March 18, 2015 at 11:56 pm
You made me cry. What a frightening experience – thank God your mother was discovered in time.
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March 19, 2015 at 2:05 am
Thank you for sharing such a heart touching bit of your life. It makes me pause and say a silent thank you for my mother.
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March 19, 2015 at 6:22 am
I am bi polar and so I can relate with the pain your mother must have felt, infact I have attempted suicide twice in the space of five years. It took a lot of self will and love from the most unexpected source to help me come back to a point where depression is now manageable. I feel emphathy for this story and only today have I really glimpsed how my loved ones must have felt when I tried to end the pain the only way I knew how. Thank you for the insight.
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March 19, 2015 at 2:18 pm
This was a very moving reply. I sincerely wish you all the best.
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March 19, 2015 at 9:16 am
Thank you for sharing this. Depression is such an unbearably heavy weight. I hope you and your mother are doing well.
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March 19, 2015 at 10:44 am
Thank you for sharing such a relatable and sincere piece. I read through it twice, and feel this was a solid, impactful expression that made me look back at times when I was so close to losing those important to me. Do keep writing.
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March 19, 2015 at 2:17 pm
Thanks for your kind comment.
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March 25, 2015 at 1:15 pm
Beautiful piece. Depression is such a beast, devouring its prey.
I’m glad you still have your mom.
~Audrey
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June 9, 2015 at 6:39 am
This piece was amazing! I’ll be sure to “catch up” on your other work now that I am following your blog.
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June 10, 2015 at 10:28 am
Thankyou! It was a tough piece to write. 🙂
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November 5, 2015 at 3:43 pm
Even after reading this a second time, I’m in years. My mother is my best friend, so I can only imagine how hard this time must have been. You are truly blessed, as well as she is, for the life that she still has.
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November 5, 2015 at 3:46 pm
Thanks for sharing your feelings. My mum is my best friend too. I guess I have learned that like friends sometimes our mums need a shoulder to cry on too. On a positive note, we just had a great laugh on the phone. Time really is a healer!
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November 5, 2015 at 3:49 pm
A laugh…today. What a wonderful thing to be able to say!
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November 5, 2015 at 3:50 pm
…and in “tears”. 🙂
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November 24, 2015 at 8:57 pm
A wonderful post. Her friend the angel that was sent to bring her back. You, her beautiful daughter to keep her here.
Yes we oldsters do have our dark moments, but when we have children as wonderful as you (and I do) they have the ability to keep
the light shinning in our hearts. :o)
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November 24, 2015 at 9:00 pm
What a lovely thing to say! I have just returned from a night away with her and my face is aching from laughing the time away. I wish those who feel so low could know in time that they will feel better. Thanks for sharing your feeling. 😉
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November 27, 2015 at 9:00 pm
After reading this I sat awhile watching the clouds, letting it all sink in, faces from my own life floating by – loved ones lost along the way, and one I nearly lost. I support him as you do your mum, and wonderful it is to hear his voice on the line enthusing about this or that, enjoying life. Your beautiful account is ultimately uplifting and I’m so glad I found it.
Very best wishes from North Wales,
Paul
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November 27, 2015 at 11:40 pm
Thank you for taking the time to comment. Your message is very touching. I am saddened that we are not alone, yet relieved that our loved ones are with us today. Best wishes back to you too!
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February 4, 2016 at 3:25 am
I stopped by to read something else but I am glad to have read this beautifully descriptive post and tear gulpingly sad. X Thank you.
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February 4, 2016 at 8:15 am
I am so glad that the piece moved you to comment. Fortunately today my mother is a much stronger woman. I guess I learnt a lot that day and our bond became even closer. Thanks for reading.
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