Yesterday, after posting on my website, I returned to Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites where I was swarmed with this name:
If you’ve been on the Internet recently, then you know exactly what I’m about to talk about.
This 15-year-old Canadian, posted a video to YouTube about bullies, and—five weeks later—she committed suicide because of her personal experiences. However, I am not posting about my personal take on this tragedy, as I do not know this young person or the details of her death, but I’m really here, instead, to discuss suicide.
Whenever an event like this happens, sadly enough, I am taken back to every tragedy I have personally witnessed. Even then, I am struck by other tragedies I have seen my loved ones suffer with.
So how should we cope? What do we do to understand? To accept? To continue to live while loving their memory?
I, as an avid reader and writer, seem to submerge myself in both reading and writing to understand. When I was struck with grief, for whatever reason, I have found that one novel in particular sticks out of my memory in regards to suicide:
History of a Suicide: My Sister’s Unfinished Life by Jill Bialosky.
A memoir of Bialosky’s life before and after her 21-year-old sister committed suicide. Bialosky goes through every grieving phase, contemplating all possibilities, and ultimately studies suicideology. This touching memoir is both dark and comforting, sweet yet saddening, endearing but questioning. And I truly believe History of a Suicide: My Sister’s Unfinished Life can help others, not only cope with suicide, but understand the repercussions of said actions and the love that everyone deserves.
Whatever your opinion on Amanda Todd may be, I am not interested. What I am interested in, however, is the possible prevention of suicide and comforting the victims of suicide (the survivors—the loved ones—the family and friends) who have lost a dear one.
Click here for Amanda Todd’s official website.
Click here to read more about the novel.
Click here for suicidal help. Or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Remember: “I suppose no one is truly dead when we go on loving them” (Bialosky, 31).