The Permanent Solution...

Any bereavement is hard to deal with. It rocks you in so many ways, and can do so continuously, striking like hammer blows over the years. In my case, my emotions regarding my Uncle’s death have re-emerged over the past few years, and I am feeling emotions that must have been locked up deep inside me.

I think that this is down to various factors.

Firstly, I was a child when he passed away. Time perception was different back then. A child year seems to be an adult month. Our sense of time changes as we grow older. The intervening years have been my developmental, grown up years. Lots of water has passed under the bridge since Charlie died. I have matured and had to deal with other bereavements, stresses, struggles and finding my own path in life. It is only now as I am rapidly approaching the age that he passed, that my feelings to his passing are re-emerging. As a child I was able to accept that grown-ups will die at some point. I was told that he had a heart attack, and that seemed logical to me at the time. It wasn’t til I approached adulthood, did I find out and was able to comprehend the darker truth.

“When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things”

Another factor has to be that in clearing out my Grandfather’s property after his death three years ago, I found my Uncle’s suicide letter. 

Having only ever heard my parent’s perspective on the reasons they believed led to his decision to end his life, it was a roller-coaster to quickly read his letter, all at the same time as being emotional towards the passing of my Grandfather.

My head was spinning, my heart was racing and it was hard to focus as I began to read the actual letter that was found alongside my Uncle all those years ago. Addressed to ‘Mum’ the words on the paper in my hands were the last thing to go through his mind. His despair and depression was clearly evident. He blamed himself for everything that had happened. The breakup of a relationship. The breakdown of a business. The financial ruin, and the disappointment he saw himself as. The letter apologised to his parents, and instructed my grandmother to pass on messages to his friends. But there was no mention of his brothers. No mentions of me, my sister or his other nephews and nieces. No mention of other family members. This hurt immensely when reading the letter. It made me think that on the night that he set about his task to end his life, the wider ramifications of his actions were not present in his thought process. In many ways, it made me see him as very selfish. It made me blame the bottle of alcohol that he was clearly consuming as he wrote the letter. It made me think that if he hadn’t have been drinking that night, he may be with us now.

But that was naive and of me. It took some time to reflect and study more about the subject of depression, and learn more about the man that in reality, I only knew as a playmate. Mental health issues are widely ignored even now, and back in 1993 when my uncle took his life, I can’t imagine opening up to peers, or seeking help was that common. Instead as typical south London male, he wanted to get himself out of the predicament he was in, and not unload his issues on other people. His decision to end his life was not a spur of the moment thing. He had planned his method. This was not going to be a cry for help. This was going to be a permanent solution to his pain.

Finally, the fact that I still hate the fact he chose that permanent solution, to what I now see 23 years later as an illness that can be helped. I hate the fact he didn’t reach out for help. I hate the fact that he didn’t think of his three brothers; about how this would send their world crashing down around them. I hate the fact that my Nan blamed herself fully for the loss of her son. I hate the fact that she never recovered from his passing. I hate the fact that my sister, my cousins and I missed out on getting to know him as a man. I’m gutted that we never shared a pint and laugh together. At family events, I often think that family members who have passed away are with us, watching us have fun and live life. I hope they are proud of us.

The Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM – www.thecalmzone.net) believe that there are social and cultural barriers which prevent men from speaking out. That state that men do not feel comfortable expressing feelings and emotions. That men think they are expected to be strong at all times. I certainly agree with this statement in regards to my uncle. 

I wish he could have opened up to someone. He would have been 65 just after Valentines day. I wish we could have shared a pint in celebration.