A Reflection Five Years After Our Loss

With the anniversary of Hunter’s death tomorrow, we’ve been doing some reflecting in the house. Coming as it does on the heels of Mother’s Day, preceding Father’s Day, right after Mental Health Awareness month and on the cusp of a pandemic that has caused a spike in global mental health challenges, that shouldn’t be surprising.

A few years after Hunter’s death, I participated in a grief program run by Catholic Charities of Chicago; entitled LOSS (Loving Outreach to Survivors of Suicide), the non-denominational program offers 8-week and monthly sessions, and I’ve since become involved with the programming.  LOSS hosted an event last night for which I was invited to submit a piece about “hope” and I’m including it here as a Reflection at Five Years….

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Tales of Triumph

(their title, not mine)

Kristen Coe

June 5, 2020

I believe Tales of Triumph is a misnomer, unless “triumph” is counted in moments and, as mindfulness teaches us, appreciated in the moment.  Since grief comes unbidden, and can strike at any moment, I wonder the corollary – can joy also?  And how do we get to the place that just as grief can capsize a moment (or a day), joy can steady (or even enrich) it instead?

I am a planner. When the children were little, I could tell you on February 8 what would be happening on August 8. And while I have always intellectually understood that control is an illusion, our son Hunter’s death five years ago confirmed in the most gruesome way that we cannot control life. I found no joy in acquiring that lesson. My steps forward are predicated on my temperament, so it seemed best to confess my perspective. 

With Hunter’s death, a pall descended on our family. A boat built for six struggled with only five sailors but in time, we have organically accommodated our phantom sailor. Or, at least the English major in me sees poetry in the ways our children have adopted some of their brother’s traits!  In fits and starts and, depending on the family member, with long walks, ultramarathons, new pets, lots of conversation (therapeutic or otherwise), hospitalizations and hard work, we have trimmed our sails to the wind, and can again see the sun and not merely the clouds which surround it. Some steps were tentative, others more concrete and still others failed but each led us to this point where, to quote our youngest (with a bit of poetic license), the difference between five years ago and today is that we’ve “acquired the head space” to move forward. 

For me, stealing moments of joy from the mouth of mourning are most often rooted in reflective joy – seeing genuine happiness in the faces of our immediate family. On a strictly personal level, I find that simple acts of kindness are as capable of stopping me in my tracks as grief was once (and sometimes still) able to do. And with both, I am as likely to share a private communion with Hunter to thank him for the clarity to see each moment for what it was – a flash of such beauty that I am forced to get out of my head and savor it.  I still reside too much in my head, but  I am grateful to these glimpses which pull me from the administrivia of life to reflect on its brilliance instead.  And for a control freak, that is a momentary triumph!

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As you know, along with the gift of friends and family who’ve walked with us on this journey, the establishment of the Hunter Quigley Coe Be The Boat Fund (www.betheboat.org) has been transformative. Since 2016, the Fund has distributed over $110,000 to two local entities: Hephzibah Home (www.hephzibahhome.org), a residential program for children who’ve been removed from their homes due to abuse and neglect, and the Infant Welfare Society (http://www.childrenscliniciws.org/), a medical and dental service provider for children at/below the poverty level.  Grants to both organizations have provided needed mental and behavioral health services.  The opportunity to change the trajectory of a child’s life with a well-timed mental health intervention motivates our work.  With Hunter’s death, our world was fractured.  With your support, Be The Boat has allowed us to recast it, and for that, we’re grateful beyond measure.

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International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day