A Broken Heart

– A Survivor- July 1998

It was at the time of my mother’s death that I began to realize the full impact of my father’s death by suicide, decades ago. This realization began in therapy. Bill, my therapist, asked what I wanted to deal with during that session. I said, “Let’s deal with my dad.”

As usual he suggested I relax thoroughly, close my eyes and take deep breaths, breathing into my body. After a few minutes he said, “OK, now describe for me that 9-year-old little girl who lost her father.” I did. He then said, “Now I want the 46-year-old Nancy to tell this little 9-year-old Nancy what her life is going to be like without her dad.”
You can image what that was like. The tears flowed, my nose ran, and most of all, to my great surprise, my heart ached. Partway through I said I needed to stop. I was sure I was having a heart attack. Finally, in unbelievable pain, and completely exhausted, I finished. The pain was so great it hurt all the way to my back. This physical pain was simply unbelievable, but imagine the emotional pain.I opened my eyes to see Bill watching me very closely. He then explained what I was feeling was the broken heart of a little 9-year-old girl, a broken heart which had never had the opportunity to heal.

When my dad committed suicide it literally broke my heart. In a way I always thought a part of me died when he did. I now know a part of me simply stopped growing. The rest of me grew up, learned life’s lessons, but a part of me was always left out, always left behind. A part of me remained the age I was at the time of his death. This is not unusual. In my case, this ‘little girl’ wrapped herself around me to protect me and try to ease the pain. Of course what really happened was she stopped the grieving process, thus my healing never occurred. Without going through the full grieving process we carry scars and even open wounds. Wounds we don’t know we have. Wounds that are just waiting for someone to come along, and without warning, and usually without intent, inflict incredible pain.
Over the course of the next year, I began to understand more how a parent’s death by suicide can affect us. What I discovered startled me. When a loved one commits suicide, particularly a parent, the child can house this pain physically inside his/her body - such as physically in his/her heart. I was no exception. A friend of mine whose father also committed suicide had the same experience. She too felt the pain physically in her heart.

I believe the phrase, “a broken heart” is quite appropriate here. Along with this, people can develop a system for protecting themselves from ever suffering such incredible pain again. Each and every person develops his or her own system. For me, my ‘system’ was to keep this little girl so well fueled that she could protect me forever. The best fuel I knew was food. My system worked well for almost 40 years.

Then something unexpected happened. My mother died. I found myself without my mother and without an identity. I was no longer the daughter who had dutifully cared for her mother. For me the pain simply became too great. It was time to begin the true grieving process.

Of course I thought I was going to grieve the loss of my mother. I had no clue I would also be grieving the loss of my father by suicide decades ago. But it was time to begin to deal with this most painful experience. It was time to show the flaw in my well-developed ‘system.’ I’m grateful I took the time and had the energy to do so. I’m grateful for the pain, for without it, my system never would have failed.

SOS Newsletter Article, Mental Health Center of Dane County, Inc.