Life isn’t a work of fiction with a clear and concise ending all tied up nice and neat for you. Sometimes, life leaves you hanging, and you have to, have to, finish the story on your own.
Sometimes, you don’t get closure. ~J.V. Manning
She would hide there when life got to be too much for her. This small town nestled in the White Mountains of New Hampshire not far from her home. The drive there peaceful with majestic mountains vaulting skyward from the winding road. Scenic outlooks, where one can gaze over raging streams filled with giant boulders that have tumbled down from the mountains, crop up every mile or so. It’s a quiet and unhurried road filled with natural beauty.
She didn’t have to be anyone up there but herself; she wasn’t mom, wife, sister or daughter. No one knew of her mental illness or how ravaged her life was because of it. She could smile at strangers and pretend for a while that everything was alright. That little town at the base of Loon Mountain was her bubble of imagined reality. Where everything was fine, her mind was not her enemy, and no one expected anything more from her than a smile. She would always come home though, until the time when she didn’t. Prior to her final journey to the mountains – unbeknownst to anyone – she made all kinds of arrangements that were more than just packing her bags. It was these arrangements that haunt me. It was these arrangements that would force me to accept something intangible and unreal. My mother had taken this final journey to the mountains to end her life.
She was never coming home and because of the arrangements she had made – I was never given a chance to say goodbye. Never allowed to see her, hold a funeral for her or bury her someplace I could visit. She was just simply gone. All the hopes I had for healing our relationship from the damaging effects of her bipolar disorder shattered during a ten-minute phone conversation telling me my mother was dead.
That’s all I got. A phone call from a relative I barely know. There was so much left unfinished between the two of us. Questions I needed answered, ‘whys’ I needed to understand and words I needed to say to her that I had let ferment inside my soul for so long. She wasn’t the only one who suffered from the effects of her disorder – we all did. So many moments in the years since that hurt my heart not to be able to share with her. And times, when I've almost convinced myself it was a just a dream and that she is alive somewhere in one of her bubbles of created reality. Life isn’t a work of fiction with a clear and concise ending all tied up nice and neat for you. Sometimes, life leaves you hanging, and you have to, have to, finish the story on your own. Sometimes, you don’t get closure. It has been almost four years since she died and throughout all of them I have faced the gamut of emotions that have played throughout my entire soul. Anger, sadness, grief and finally, acceptance. I have made peace with her and all that led up to her final journey to the mountains. A solid peace that I arrived to after serious soul searching. But yet, while I am at peace with her, and many of the broken pieces inside have healed over the years – I was still holding onto to some of it. I still didn't have closure.
There are moments in life when we don’t get the answers we need. There are moments when we do not get a chance for a final goodbye. People we have to let go of without ceremony or fanfare because that is the way it has to be. Circumstances where we will never get the chance to have our say or speak our truths. No second or third chances. Occasionally, you’ll be left with the “what might have beens” and if you let them - those “what might have beens” will destroy you.
Life isn’t a fairytale, and sometimes there are no happy endings. Hell, sometimes there isn’t a clear ending at all. A few days ago I took a trip to the White Mountains, something I haven’t done since she died. As I pulled into the town and saw her favorite hotel – something burst out of me that I wasn’t even aware of holding onto. I wept as I drove through, and suddenly, something I'd never considered before that moment, came crashing through to my consciousness - there are no outside sources in which to find closure when something traumatic happens. You have to find it within yourself. Closure is the conscious decision you make to move on – mostly healed. Closure is when you stop giving whatever it is that hurt your heart: power over your present day and your future. Closure is the moment when you declare, silently to yourself, that it’s time to move on. Closure is when you fully appreciate that sometimes you don’t get final goodbyes or the ability to understand the why of it but decide to open your heart and soul to let the light back in fully, regardless.
Closure is appreciating what you went through, what you loss and making the decision not to allow yourself to lose any more by holding onto what you couldn’t control, fix or change.
Closure is what you get when you make those first tentative steps towards a new day. Changed, yes. Battle weary, of course. Emotionally scarred, damned right. Definitely not the same person you were before. You will have to be brave. You will have to dig deep for a while to feel confident in what you have faced and conquered. Trust me, there will come a day when you realize it’s up to you to close the chapter on what hurt you and you have complete control over ending its ability to do so any longer. When I got home from my trip to the mountains, I felt something settle inside. I have too much life to live and smiles to the beam. Too much love to share and light inside me to hold on to the darkness any longer. I need to be free from all of it, once and for all. I couldn’t allow the decision she made to end her life – end mine. The closure I have been searching for was in seeing that and knowing that while she was here – I gave her all that I had. Now that she is gone, while I miss her and forever will, my life is far too important to be trapped with the ghosts of a past I can’t change. I had closure all along. I just wasn’t ready to see it. I am now. You must release your hold on that which no longer serves your life. For it is within this release that you will write your own ending summing up how you have changed, survived, healed and are now ready to move on. You will have closure.
20 Comments
Lise-Marie
9/20/2015 07:06:52 pm
Oh my ! so beautiful that i am sitting here crying. thank you
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Random Jenn
9/20/2015 09:23:26 pm
Lotsa love and light to you my sweet friend. Big ole hugs, too!
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Connie Callahan
9/20/2015 08:01:48 pm
Thank you so much...
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Random Jenn
9/20/2015 09:24:14 pm
You are more than welcome. I am honored that this resonated with you, Connie.
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vivian
9/20/2015 09:28:35 pm
Thank you.
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Random Jenn
9/21/2015 08:39:05 pm
Sweet Vivian,
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ANDREA SALMONSON
9/20/2015 09:34:17 pm
This is beautiful and so glad you found closure. I haven't found closure with my brother's death 2 years ago, or my mom's death 8 months ago. Both were different circumstances where my brother's wife made all the decisions and didn't allow any of his siblings to have a goodbye, a funeral, nothing! She got rid of any trace of him, dumped his ashes over a bridge, no clergy therem no urn or prayers, she took a jack knife out of her pocket and ripped open the little cardboard box, then the little bag of ashes inside, and just said "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" and dumped them into the water! No memorial, no place for his family to go to, nothing!
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Random Jenn
9/21/2015 08:43:23 pm
Andrea,
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Salli
9/21/2015 11:18:52 am
Jenn, once again, you have hit another area I am personally ready to face. Almost 4 years ago, my best friend took his own life. I had spoke to him the week before and he seemed his normal self. The following week, he went missing and later was found. He was my rock through may hard times, his parents were another set of parents to me, and I have not been able to come to grips with his death. I decided a couple of weeks ago, it was time to heal. I can not get closure, obviously, but it's time to heal. I am going with his parents to his grave to say my good-byes, this coming weekend. I fully believe, his spirit is never far away, and this healing venture, is solely for myself. Thank you for so eloquently writing so many real blogs that so many can resonate with! <3
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Random Jenn
9/21/2015 08:46:46 pm
I am so sorry. Death is hard enough to take on its own but when a loved one takes their life - it almost seems insurmountable.
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Mary Merrill
9/21/2015 11:49:16 am
I needed this today. Thank you!
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Random Jenn
9/21/2015 08:48:51 pm
Funny how life brings to us exactly what we need at the exact time we need it.
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Cherlyn
9/21/2015 01:05:52 pm
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, Jenn, for this beautiful article!!! Oh, how I really needed this today! My husband (of 28 years) was killed in a tragic traffic accident while out of town 7 months ago!!! I don't have 'answers' for a lot of my questions & had to come to the realization that I may NEVER get them this side of heaven! I very recently reconnected with a friend I have known for 50 years, but hadn't seen for 44 years until this past weekend. There is definitely a relationship starting & I felt 'guilty' for experiencing joy during my Road of Grief! I know, however, that my husband would WANT me to be happy & continue to truly live & have a wonderful life of love!!! I have decided that it's a testament to the love we shared for 29 years to want to love again!!! Hugs & blessings for all that you share w/ us!!!
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Sandy
9/21/2015 01:37:14 pm
Your words have touched me in a place that I have held back from for a long time....I may now be able let the darkness have a little bit of sun shine in on it....time will tell. Thank you for your words and your heart.
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Random Jenn
9/21/2015 08:36:22 pm
Sandy,
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Sharon Williams
9/21/2015 10:53:13 pm
Thank you so much, for sharing your story! I lost my twin sister a few years ago, I'm still trying to find some closure. This helps me so much. Thank you!
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Maria down Under
9/22/2015 03:53:27 am
Jenn, thank you for sharing so much of yourself, for trusting your sacred and raw emotions with us, your readers .. I am sending you a cyber hug and also letting you know that what you write about is so pertinent to my life in so many ways .. by you sharing your naked thoughts about your grief and your road to healing, it brings healing to many others ..
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Margie
9/25/2015 01:45:11 pm
I hear you Jenn. My mother committed suicide in the eighties a few days after my father's birthday. My mother's suicide haunted me for many years. We two were also estranged for many personal reasons. When I was a child I saw my mother attempt suicide three times.. ending her life with the fourth time. As a child and young teen, my father told me to talk her out of these attempts. I felt it was my job to keep her alive. When she died, I was filled with enormous grief and guilt. I had feelings of abandonment that she rejected me and didn't care about me. . My question of "why" never found resolution. I couldn't share her death with others. I said she had a heart attack due to the stigma of suicides. When people who have their loved ones die " of natural causes, they have memories of their loved ones and their lives. But when someone suicides, all we can remember is the suicide. We get stuck. I no longer ask the whys..there are no answers. Every year on Mother's Day, I put a card in the mailbox with an envelope that is addressed to Mom. I no longer feel the grief or the abandonment. I now celebrate life. Thank you so much Jenn for sharing your tragedy. My heart heard you.
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Eleanor
10/5/2015 04:21:30 pm
So powerful. Closure is not a one-time thing, but you have made your beginning. You are in my thoughts and prayers. May you find peace. Be gentle with yourself.
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David L. Moser
11/15/2015 12:35:41 pm
I can connect with a lot of what you've shared. I was married to someone for twenty-three years, had started dating her when I was sixteen, and one day she suddenly left my life forever, never to return. I did all that I could to reconcile, but that wasn't meant to be. I had to accept the fact that she was gone from my life forever. Closure? I can't say that I experienced that with her for the years since then,,,,we barely even talked even though we had two children and two grandchildren.
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