Warning: Content in this column could be triggering for some readers.
In 1976 our mother, Mary, died by suicide. She shot herself, alone in her apartment. A devastating and shocking loss. We missed the signs. Although we were all proactive in her life we didn't think that suicide was even a possibility.
Two years prior our family business, a general store in Clearwater was destroyed by an arson fire. Molotov cocktails were thrown through the front window of the store on Halloween night. A revenge act over a pair of stolen cowboy boots from our store that involved an arrest. Charges not pressed by our mom, the store owner, but by the police. Our home was attached to the store with a warehouse area in the middle. We had two phone lines; both were cut prior to the arson. We were asleep and all at home. Our mother’s life's work gone...within hours. A senseless hateful act.
Our oldest son was only a year old and the only grandchild our mom had time with. She spent her last evening two years after the fire playing with him at her apartment in Clearwater. She was seemingly happy, made us all tea and our Aunt Het, Uncle Bob, and my husband and I felt so hopeful that night that she 'seemed' so much better. She was going to Calgary the next day to look at businesses and get back to being productive.
The next morning, she took a taxi (the only one in our small town where everyone knows everyone) and went to the only sports store and purchased a gun. She was well known. Helping many in our town, she kept a little recipe box under the till in the store full of accounts for local families to charge groceries until 'next' payday. Many never paid after the fire but she knew that they couldn't pay. She had a compassionate heart, at times a bit of a bitchy demeanour, but an authentic warmth for children in need. She ran a business seven days a week. No one questioned why she was buying a gun that horrible day. Many of us missed the signs.
She was a tiny, spunky, vibrant, strong willed, and kind woman in her day. Memorable. No one questioned her actions that morning or called any of us to alert us that something seemed wrong or 'off'. A small town. Everyone knows everyone. Missing the signs...
She went home and cleaned the apartment spotlessly. Watered her plants and left them in the sink rather than put them out again. She emptied her garbage and met someone there, had a chat. She came back in and arranged all of our photos on the round glass topped table in order. A cross from my 10-year-old future sis-in-law that she made for her out of match sticks in the middle and two handwritten notes written in pencil. Her words were flowery and emotional, covering each of us that she cared for with words of gratitude, pride and love in her last moments while asking us to take care of each other and her beloved grandson saying he was the joy of her life. We missed the signs.
She left money in an envelope, legal papers in neat order. Everything well thought out. We thought she was turning a corner and getting better. But we missed the signs.
There's more to fill in spaces here, stuff that would require so much detail, but suffice to say, we were in touch, all of us, in our own ways caring for her, pulling her into life on a daily basis with love. Yet, we missed the signs.
I would've been at the apartment an hour later to pick her up for lunch and take her to the bus for her Calgary trip. Our Uncle Bob missed her by a half hour at the sports store, going there to pick up his snowmobile. Our brother Scott went over to tell her he and my sister were moving back with her. He didn't go in. He knew before he opened the door. I can't share here what he saw even before going in. It's too sad and horrific. I've never shared like this so publicly. I don't speak my mom's name very often. I was the oldest, yet I was only a child really at just 20 with a baby boy.
The three of us, her children left in inner turmoil. Mixed feelings of severe shock, ultimate grief, even anger - 'how could you?’ But then the guilt. Why didn't I, what could I have done? WHAT DID I MISS?
We were all reaching out, communicating constantly, seeing her pain and struggles after losing her life's work, being underinsured and overstocked. Losing direction, purpose.
I'm not sure to this day what more we could've done or seen or initiated. I am sure we must've missed something but also that ultimately that it was her own choice that day. I would give anything for one more moment.
She had a lifelong struggle with depression and mental illness. The store was her therapy. Would it happen today with so many more ways to communicate?
There are resources that we didn't have then available now. Please reach out. Talk. Take time. Please know, there are so many of us that truly care and want you here with us to share in our lives. One call, one conversation, one question or one referral to help may save a life if we don't miss the signs.
If you've read this far, thank you for caring enough. It's about love, it's about communication and being aware. Don't close your eyes or turn away. Don't leave until it's your natural time. Watch for the signs. During this time of year many need encouragement, a little kindness, and to be with someone that cares.
Don’t miss the signs…833.456.4566 Suicide Prevention Help Line
