It’s Monday, March 18, as I write this. Today Denise has been gone 31 years.
While it’s hard to believe 31 years have gone by, there is a piece of her death that I always feel needs repeating each year.
She died in March.
March is the month of the year when we have the highest number of suicides. Most people believe it’s December because many people find the holidays very challenging. However, during the holidays we are often physically closer and more in touch with people. March, though, brings spring. And springs brings light, green, and flowers.
For some people, seeing this rebirth of life is hard and they can’t rejoice in it.
Spring also seems to be coming sooner each year as the climate changes. There is a tree in my backyard neighbors’ yard that hangs a bit over my pool equipment and I can see it from my laundry room window. It’s budding out and I don’t recall it ever looking so green before spring officially started.
I also remember the days after Denise killed herself in 1993– the Midwestern darkness, the brown of the grass; the naked trees and how their branches were empty and bare.
But the day after her funeral, the sun came out and I still remember how different everything felt. Her funeral was over and it was time to move forward. I won’t say move on because we never moved on from her– Denise is still with us. Instead, it was about seeking color and light in March instead of the darkness she got caught in.
While it’s color and light that keep me hopeful, Denise and many other people couldn’t do that.
This photo is from 2019, taken on the University of New Mexico campus. I remember it was a warm day which is why I asked Greg to go to campus with me to take photos in this dress I had made. But when I look at them, and the barren, still winter, of the landscape, my dress and bag stick out like sore thumbs. And then I look closer and I see the trees have buds, just a bit of green, enough that spring is coming and soon my color and light will be part of the landscape again.
I can’t change Denise’s decision 31 years ago to end her life, but I can continue to find color and light in my life. And include her in that journey.