Comments - Emily Dickinson, buttercups, and death
Poetry Unbound
Hello all. My sister died by suicide during Covid. She had bipolar disorder and had been suffering for a long time. I've resisted the 'released from pain' frame; it feels too small for her. But she was someone who deeply touched many lives, and as I went through her papers, I came to think she knew something about what she needed. Whether that counts as 'good enough' I still don't know. Carrying my remembrances of her feels like carrying her through that field of buttercups. She was beautiful, fierce, and aching. Your line, Pádraig, “One of the strange things about being alive is that death is part of it.” That sentence is reverberating in my bones. We’ve lost more than I knew I could bear, and I'm aware now that death is no longer something happening elsewhere or to others. My sister walked into that truth before I was ready. I'm still catching up to her.
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Thank you, Lisa Marie. I am loving this line: "Whether that counts as 'good enough' I still don't know.” I’m aware as I’m reading all of these tender shares this morning that, in some ways, we are asked to be the judge of what is good enough. There is some magic in saying something is good enough—but in your post I felt the magic in not knowing. The respect and heart it takes to not know. My heart aches at the feeling of you still catching up to her.
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Jo, thank you. I’m especially moved by what you said about “the magic in not knowing.” That feels true to my experience…that love and grief sometimes ask for witness more than conclusion. Thank you also for hearing the ache in “still catching up to her.” It means a great deal. The prompts that Pádraig gifts us lead always towards the profound - but I am with you that this week there are some truly “tender shares”.
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witness more than conclusion - precisely this, yes.
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Lisa, what a poignant line:”my sister walked into that truth before I was ready”. Thank you for sharing the grappling inner work to move through the loss and grief. Thank you
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How wise and true Lisa, what Joy quoted. I don’t know how I could get ready for the loss of one of my four siblings. I’m the oldest and still pray that they will all just wait their turn. Blessings on you, Lisa, as you treasure all you learned from her papers.
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I still have all my siblings who are precious to me. I hear you.
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Patty, thank you, and all good things to you and those four!
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Your striking, beautiful reflection reminded me of the words of Fr. Ronald Rolheiser. Rolheiser argues that suicide is rarely an act of despair, but rather a "terminal disease" and a "tragic breakdown within the emotional immune system," similar to cancer. He compares the act to someone jumping from a burning building to escape unendurable pain. Sorry for your loss, Lisa.
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Michael, thank you for this rumination, I had not heard it before. It certainly resonates.
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Michael, are Fr. Rolheiser’s words in one of his books? Thank you.
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Fr. Ron has been writing an online weekly column for many years and he dedicates at least one column a year to the topic of suicide. Feel free to explore his site:
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Lisa, thank you for sharing about your sister. I am very sorry for your loss. I really appreciate how you are approaching her being gone as catching up with her…profound.
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Ah, Lisa Marie. This is beautiful. And I am sorry. ❤️🩹
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Thank you, Lyn.
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“She knew what she needed.” Something I’ll ponder a long time with immense respect.
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Margaret, thank you for writing. It felt true as I went through all the things she left behind...
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Lisa I think you’re right to think your sister knew what she needed. Best to trust. It seems that level of despair must be beyond our understanding, but we know the decision was made beyond having a choice to stay. You and she are two distinctively different beings. Your sensitivity to others is a blessing. You do not need to catch up to anyone.
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Lynn, you are very generous, and intellectually I agree that there is no competition. But despite that, death no longer feels like something happening somewhere else, to someone else. It feels nearer now, and I’m still trying to understand what it means to live with that knowledge.
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"Carrying my remembrances of her feels like carrying her through that field of buttercups," is such a beautiful analogy.
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Thank you, Barbara!
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For dying’s but a door to grace
We meet God's love, face to face
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Thank you, Andrew.