It has been just over 18 months since my brother, Jamie, chose to leave us. Sadly, there have been so many more suicides since his.  Not people that I have known personally, but people that my friends and acquaintances or even some of you that follow me here have known.  So many of you have reached out to me and there is one question that I seem to get asked almost every single time.  “What is the best thing I can say or do to help my friend that has just lost their loved one to suicide”?  I seem to always give the same response.  And, honestly, it is so simple.  Just. Show. Up. 

Since the very moment we learned of Jamie’s suicide until today, people in our lives have shown up for us in a million different ways.  Even though it is incredibly painful to revisit some of these moments, it has been on my heart to share with you because without people showing up in our lives, I am honestly not sure how we would have survived suicide loss.  Let’s talk about showing up, my friends. 

I hate to cook.  I tell everyone that I only have a kitchen because it came with the house.  However, it was one of those rare days that I felt inspired to make sure I had a warm meal on the table for my family.  It was a Tuesday, so I went with the Taco Tuesday theme and I was feeling pretty darn proud of the fact that I was cooking dinner!! As I was slaving away over the stovetop browning hamburger for the tacos, my husband’s phone that was laying on the counter next to me rang.  I looked over at the caller ID and saw that it was my Mom calling him.  I remember saying to him, “That’s weird.  She didn’t call my phone first.  She always calls my phone first”. Tony shrugged his shoulders and answered the phone. 

Immediately all the color disappeared from his cheeks and he had a look on his face like I have never seen before.  It was a combination of disbelief, shock, horror, fear, and more sadness than I had ever seen in my husband’s eyes.  He put the phone down.  He reached over my shoulder and turned the burner on the stovetop off.  He took the spatula out of my hand and he said, “Go get your things.  We need to leave.  Now”.    It didn’t take long for me to realize what was happening.  Remember, I have told you before that the 6 or 7 months prior to Jamie’s suicide were less than stellar.  So, I just knew.  I knew right then in that very moment that our lives had just changed forever.    

I don’t know exactly what I did then or how much time passed between that phone call and realizing that my best friend, Jen, was suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere in my house.  Where the hell did she come from?  How did she know we needed her right now?  Of course, Tony had called her, but I didn’t know that then.  There are bits and pieces of time from receiving that phone call and leaving my house that I have no recollection of.  I think my mind completely checked out of reality for a short time, but I do have an image of Jen sitting on the couch with both of my children, one in each of her arms consoling them that is forever burned into my memory.  I remember my girls crying and frantic and asking all of us to explain what was happening. I don’t remember what I told them, or if I even told them anything.  Probably not.  I simply had no capacity to parent in that moment. 

My point in all of this is that my best friend showed up. Right there in the immediate moments that we were learning of Jamie’s suicide, she showed up.  I am sure it felt like she walking into the house of horrors but without missing a beat she did what no friend should ever have to do for another.  She sat with my children for hours that night until we got home.  To this day, I have never had the courage to ask her what kind of conversations she could have possibly had with my children or the things she probably had to explain to them while we were gone.  My God.  My heart honestly can’t take knowing.  Not now.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  She showed up. 

It was 32.2 miles from my front door to my brother’s front door.  But I swear to you we drove about 1,894 miles that night getting to his house.  It was the longest car ride of my entire life.  When we finally turned down his street it was lined with police cars, fire trucks, ambulance, and worst of all, there was already a hearse in the driveway.  I had prayed the entire car ride.  I had hoped the entire car ride.  I had begged and I had pleaded with God the ENTIRE CAR RIDE that somehow, someway, we had misunderstood and that my beautiful brother would be alive when we got there.  But there sat a god forsaken hearse in my brother’s driveway. 

I swear to you that’s when I felt myself leave my own body for a moment.  It was a complete out of body experience that I hope like hell I never experience again.  It was a terrifying feeling.  Absolutely everything around me disappeared except two things…  the damn hearse sitting in my brother’s driveway that I couldn’t quit looking at and my Aunt Charlotte.  My Aunt Charlotte? I remember thinking to myself that it was freezing outside.  Why was she standing outside like that and what was she doing?  Turned out she had been standing outside in the freezing cold and in the bitter wind waiting for me to get there.  She pushed aside her own grief in that moment to wait for me.  She knew what was happening at my brother’s house and she wanted to shield me from seeing things that I would never be able to un-see.  She helped get me out of the car and into my brother’s neighbor’s house where my parents were waiting for me.  Here she was facing the suicide of a child that she loved like her own son and she found the strength to show up… for me.  She showed up.  (And, for the record, my Aunt Charlotte has showed up for us in a MILLION ways over the last 18 months, but that is another publication entirely on its own). 

And those neighbors that I just mentioned?  They showed up too.  I later learned that only 7 months before Jamie’s suicide their own son had also died by suicide.  MY GOD!  They were still coming to terms with their own child’s suicide and they were kind enough to take my family into their home and offer us a safe place to process our loss.  They listened to us cry and scream and plead with God.  They wept with us.  They picked us up and offered us the only thing you can offer a family in that moment… compassion.  How horrifying for them to relive their worst moment with another family.  I have no idea their names.  I think about them so often though.  I have only returned down that street one time.  I wanted to be the one to pick out the clothes that we laid my brother to rest in, so I went back only that once.  I hope that someday I have the strength to drive back down that street.  I would love nothing more than to knock on their door and thank them for showing up for my family that day.  Complete strangers… and they showed up. 

Let’s talk about my husband for a minute.  He showed up for my family in ways that I never dreamed he would have to.  The night of Jamie’s suicide the time came for us to leave that kind neighbor’s house.  It was time to go face Jamie’s children.  My parents were, of course, going with Jamie’s wife to do so, but they were in no shape to face it alone.  Someone had to step up, find the strength, and take them to do it.  Who else, but Tony?  Of course, Tony.  I will never in my life forget watching my husband put my weeping parents in the car to go do the most unimaginable thing ever.  You may think that his doing this was no big deal.  He is my husband after all, right?  Oh no, my friends.  This is the kind of shit you don’t sign up for when you get married.  I am sure the task of helping deliver that kind of news to our precious nephew and two beautiful nieces is a memory that will haunt him forever.  He showed up in a big, big way that night (and a million times since then too – again, an entirely different publication all on its own).  He showed up. 

The next day as news spread our friends, our family, and the communities that we each live in started to show up for us in all the expected ways following a death.  Cards were sent, food was delivered, visitors filled the home I grew up in to offer their condolences, and my house turned into a flower shop overnight.  My goodness, I literally couldn’t find another place to stick a flower or a plant if I had to!!!  It was overwhelming.  People showed up. 

There were some unexpected ways that people showed up too.  I am not an incredibly social person in the community that I live in now.  People I grew up with and that know me from back home have a very hard time believing that about me, but it is true.  I guess I have just never found “my people” in Mt Pleasant.  Except for a few close friends, I pretty much keep to myself here.  So, imagine my surprise when five Mommas from the community got together and showed up for me.  They sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers and collectively went in together on a gift card to my favorite running store so that when I was ready to start chasing pavement again, I could treat myself to some new running gear.  I mean… go ahead and insert all the ugly tears here please!!!!  By the way, the flowers and the gift card have nothing to do with my telling you this.  The point is that I will never forget their kindness or the fact that they cared enough about my pain to show up for me.  They showed up. 

We had some late nights the week of Jamie’s suicide.  We were at my parent’s house, of course, during the day and all evening.  It would be late at night before I could pry myself away to go back to my house.   For one, I hated leaving my Mom and Dad.  And, my house was empty and not full of people and distractions like my parent’s house was.  It was dreadful going home to such an empty house.  So, again, imagine my surprise when we pulled in late one night to see that the quiet, but very sweet neighbor from across the street (that I never really talk to much) still had her light on.  She stayed by her window watching for us to get home just so she could come over and offer me a hug, her condolences, and some groceries.  To this day I don’t think she realizes how much that simple but incredibly kind gesture meant to me.  She showed up. 

My eating and sleeping habits went to shit fast.  I am already not a very good eater, so eating was one of the first things to go in the days following my brother’s suicide.  I lost 9 pounds very quickly and I am not a person that is always packing around an extra 9 pounds to lose!    Again, my friend Jen, showed up.  We have one of those friendships…  the kind where she can order for me from any menu you hand her.  She just knows what I will and won’t eat.  After hearing from many people in my inner circle that I wasn’t eating and I was losing weight at warp speed, she showed up with a to go bag from a local restaurant with the exact meal I would have ordered if I had been there myself.  She sat at my kitchen table and she refused to leave until I ate it.  Literally.  She would have sat there for 3 days if I had not just given in and taken some bites because… well, because she’s that stubborn!!  When I was not capable of taking care of even my most basic of needs, she showed up and did it for me.  She showed up.   

People showed up not by the dozens for Jamie’s visitation and funeral, people showed up by the hundreds.  I know I have told you before that my family and I greeted over 750 people the night of Jamie’s visitation.  The line was long.  Those that came literally waited in line for 4 to 5 hours just to give us a hug.  The next morning the funeral home had set up 400 chairs for the funeral.  It was full.  Standing room only.  The outpouring of love and compassion that was shown to my family is still so overwhelming that I have tears rolling down my cheeks as I type this.  I will never be able to recall his visitation or funeral without crying simply because of the way people showed up… by the hundreds.  They showed up.

A few months after Jamie’s suicide when I started writing this blog, I met with a dear family friend, Kent (now one of my JBRF team members too).  I wanted to write a piece on mental health and our education system.  He worked 30+ years as a school psychologist so I knew he was the perfect person to interview.  I won’t rehash all of that because you can go back and find it on my blog.  I only bring it up because he showed up for me in a big, big way that day too.  I was completely losing myself in my own grief at that point and just as I was wrapping up our visit that day, he stepped up and confronted me about it.  Long story short, he ultimately asked me how I planned to advocate for mental health and suicide prevention when I wasn’t even taking care of my own mental health.  What kind of a role model was I being for my children when I wasn’t even brave enough to admit that I needed my own help? Wow, right?  It was a reality check for sure.  He had already arranged for me to call a friend of his that is a psychiatrist.  He told me I had until that Friday morning at 8am to call and confirm an appointment.  (Let me acknowledge that not everyone is so blessed to have that immediate of access to mental health care. It’s a huge problem and a topic for another day. I realize how incredibly lucky I was). I made the phone call to confirm my appointment only because I didn’t want to disappoint or embarrass Kent after he had gone above and beyond like that for me.  Truth is, he likely saved my life that day by showing up for me and by pushing me to get my own help.  He showed up. 

My childhood best friends have gone above and beyond with their gifts and acts of love.  They still send random text messages to say nothing more than “I love you and I am thinking of you today”.  Let me tell you, my friends, those random messages are EVERYTHING.  There are days that I have clung to their words looking for strength and there are days that their words alone have gotten me through.  Don’t discount what a simple “I am thinking of you” can do for a person.  Let me say that again because I want you to hear this one… Do NOT discount what a simple “I am thinking of you” can do for a person. With every little message and every little act of love, they have showed up. 

If you are reading this then YOU TOO have showed up for us!!!!  Every single time you read, like, share, or engage with something that I write or post, you are showing up!!  Your support and your words of encouragement mean so much.  So many of you have supported The JBR Foundation by helping to spread our message, by donating, by sponsoring, by attending our events, etc.  You are showing up!!!!

I could go on and on forever about more ways that people have showed up for me.  A beautiful bracelet from a colleague of my husband’s, a beautiful necklace from my college roommate, a beautiful canvas designed by those childhood best friends, and so many other beautiful gifts that now grace my home.  The gifts are great and wonderful… tangible things that I can keep forever.  But the gifts aren’t what matter.  What matters most is that that each of those people took the time out of their own lives to find a way to show up and to show me that they see and care about my pain.  They showed up. 

I share all of this to show you that it really takes so little to show up for other people!!  It doesn’t matter if you are a best friend, an aunt, a stranger, an acquaintance, the quiet neighbor across the street, a spouse, a childhood bestie, a family friend, a colleague, a college roommate, etc.…

Just show up. 

XOXO – Jennifer

National Hotline for Suicide Prevention:  1-800-273-8255 or Text HELP to 741741