Translator: Mari Okazaki Reviewer: Theresa Ranft
Have you ever lost someone you really loved?
Grieving is one of the most difficult emotions that many people experience.
But, think about how complex it becomes when suicide is involved.
According to Statistics Canada,
the death rate by suicide in British Columbia
is roughly 500 per year,
which is more than motor vehicle accidents, at 315.
Yet, we hear about motor vehicle accidents quite often,
but we don't hear about suicide,
even though the death rate is nearly 40% higher.
Why do you think this is?
There is a long history of stigmatizing people
who are involved in any way with suicide.
People who died by suicide,
people who attempted suicide and survived the attempt,
and people who lost their loved ones by suicide.
Misunderstanding and ignorance are the root of the stigma,
and bring unbelievable suffering on suicide survivors, and bereaved ones.
Today, I would like to share my very personal story,
how suicide loss impacted my life, and how I got through.
And hopefully, this can help to reduce the stigma around suicide.
Both of my parents passed away young.
My father, by a medical accident at the age of 39, when I was 4.
His doctor simply made a mistake on his medication for fever,
and within 10 days, his healthy and strong body
declined to the point of death.
My mother became a young widow with three little girls,
and she raised us on her own.
Despite the difficulties,
she was always joyful, energetic and uplifting,
until she developed a bipolar disorder.
In the winter, when I was 25, my ordinary morning became extraordinary.
My life turned upside down,
because my beloved mother took her own life.
A few days prior, her depression was so bad
that she couldn't even get off the couch.
But the day before,
she was feeling well enough to go on a short trip by train with me.
After we came back from the trip,
she was feeling so well that she made a phone call to her friends, telling them,
"My depression finally lifted.
I'm so happy that I'm coming to the meeting tomorrow. See you then!"
She looked really happy.
But how would I know if she was feeling well,
or was it just another bipolar routine?
The very next day, when I woke up on the fateful morning,
I felt like I needed to check my mom.
So I went to her room, and the bed was empty.
So from there, I looked down the hallway, and the kitchen light was on.
I didn't see her, but I thought, "Good, she's up and cooking breakfast."
I turned around, took a shower and practiced the piano for 20 minutes,
which was my morning routine.
I finished practicing piano and came back out from the room,
and then I saw her standing at the end the hallway.
So I said, "Good morning!"
But she didn't respond, so I thought, "Maybe she's making a phone call."
But, as I took a few steps closer, that's when I realized
there was this much space between her feet and the floor.
And then I gasped, and my time stopped for a moment.
But the first thing I thought was,
"My sister with Down's syndrome must not see this."
Fortunately, she was still sleeping,
but I knew right away this could create serious damage on her.
So I was like, "I got to take her down."
I quietly looked for scissors,
and as I cut the cord we both fell on the floor.
Then I shook her body and tried to wake her,
and then screaming that voice, my sister woke up.
I can still remember her sleepy and terrified eyes.
I made a phone call to the ambulance,
then I tried CPR, and phoned again, telling them,
"You got to hurry! She's not breathing, hurry!"
Finally, the ambulance came and took all of us to the hospital.
At the hospital, the doctor told me that she didn't make it.
I was like...
"No! She was well last night,
she was going to go to a meeting this morning;
and now she's gone."
I was very confused.
I made a phone call to my relatives who lived close by,
and I phoned another sister who had to take an airplane to get to me.
The very same morning, before announcing to anyone else,
we agreed to hide the truth.
If anyone asked us what had happened,
we decided to say that it was a massive heart attack
and that I found her on the floor in the morning.
We made up a story that was far from the truth.
Why did we do it?
It was because of the stigma that was wrapped around suicide.
Perhaps it was the best decision we could have made,
because it did protect me
from the negative judgment in a small community.
But it did leave me long years of pain trapped inside of me.
Probably not just me, but my sister, uncles and aunties all suffered;
but we never shared, because we decided not to talk about it.
For ten years, I didn't speak about it.
But, in the meanwhile, I suffered with PTSD,
which is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
The flashbacks, nightmares, sleepless nights, and anxieties,
and I continued to blame myself and felt guilty.
What if I had studied about depression?
What if I had known something about bipolar disorder?
What if I had supported her more?
Or, she might not have died if I hadn't practiced piano that morning.
All kinds of "what ifs."
I didn't know how to deal with it,
and how could I ask for a help without talking about it?
The only comfort that I had
was the fact that my mother was listening to my piano in those moments.
Eventually, PTSD became a normal thing to me,
even though my life was very happy
with a loving husband and three beautiful children.
But one day, for the first time in ten years,
I decided to speak the truth with my good friend, Chiho.
As I spoke,
my voice and body were shaking to the degree that I'd never experienced.
It was so obvious, that Chiho said, "You don't have to speak about it."
But I said, "If it's OK for you, may I continue?"
As I spoke, it was like my time flew back to 10 years ago.
What I saw, what I heard,
what I smelled, what I felt, what I thought was all
as if I was standing in that morning, that horrendous morning.
But, after I spoke everything, I felt so much lighter.
That time was the first time that I finally realized
this is what I needed to do.
So, I started to speak about it here and there,
whenever I had a comfortable situation.
As I shared my experience,
there were positive and negative reactions from people.
Most of the people didn't know what to say,
but they thanked me for sharing.
But some people told me that, basically, my mother would never be in heaven,
because she took her own life.
Years went by, I decided to join the Chilliwack Hospice Society.
My intention was to offer Reiki sessions,
which is a Japanese method of energy healing technique
for palliative care patients and their families.
But through that involvement,
I found out about this new bereavement group
that was specific to suicide loss.
By this time, it's been 16 years since my mother passed away,
and I was no longer suffering from PTSD.
I was sure I was over with my grieving.
So I decided to join this group as a volunteer co-facilitator.
I was so keen on helping others, but at the same time
this was my very first bereavement group that I'd joined in my life.
There are people who lost their parents,
partners, children, siblings, friends, all by suicide;
and there are even people who found their loved one's dead body,
just like I did.
I was very surprised to see that so many people shared my experience,
and for the first time I felt like I'm not alone.
There are people who actually understand my pain.
But remember I said I was over with my grieving?
Through this group, I found out that I was wrong.
Through this group, I regressed back 16 years,
and then PTSD came back.
By this time, not only grieving, guilt and shame,
but a new kind of shame was creating from inside.
It was like, "It's been 16 years, you shouldn't be grieving about your mom.
It's in the past, you get over it!
You're supposed to be helping people, you can't cry in front of the people,
it's discouraging."
It was even more complex.
My grieving process became this long,
because I didn't allow myself to have a healthy grieving stage at the beginning.
So, I decided to face my emotion with honesty.
And do you know what happened? My nightmares changed to good dreams.
I used to have a really bad dream that my mom would show up in a dream
and stood there, her eyes would be filled with guilt.
And then she would turn around without saying anything.
I would try to chase after her, never being able to catch her.
Then I ended up waking up in the middle of the night, crying.
But, that changed.
For example, my mom will come and visit me from Japan, to Canada,
and I'll take her on a tour in Vancouver.
We'll sit in Stanley Park, and take a selfie photo.
(Laughter)
And then I will say,
"Look! This is a good one. I'm going to put it on Facebook, OK?"
And I would be on iPhone, and I would type,
"Mother and daughter reunite. Dot dot smile,"
just like the way that I would spend my time with her, if she were still here.
Facing the emotion with honesty, this did it for me.
Now, in closing,
I would like to speak to those people who have never been affected by suicide,
and also for those who have.
First, people who are unfamiliar with suicide loss.
Suicide is not recognized as much as the other types of deaths.
As a result, it is often hidden.
Please know that we as suicide grievers
suffer with grieving as much as those people
who lost loved ones by illness, accidents, tragic deaths, old age.
But we also suffer with a complex set of emotions.
It's hard enough to lose a loved one, and feeling sadness, emptiness, shock;
but here comes heavy guilt, shame, blame, trauma,
and topped with stigma and taboo to deal with.
Please do not brand suicide as selfish.
With my understanding, depression is like a cancer in the heart.
Many people can survive,
but unfortunately, some people cannot survive.
But that doesn't mean that they were selfish.
They didn't want to end their lives,
but they were in so much pain that they just wanted to end their pain.
And now, those people who are affected by suicide.
Speaking helps.
It might take you three years, 10 years, or 20 years
until you are able to speak about your experience.
But please know that speaking can be one of the powerful tools
to advance your grieving from unbearable to bearable.
Once you are able to speak about your experience without crying,
then you know your heart is mending.
And let's talk about their lives, not just their death.
So then you know that they were so filled with life.
I just know that there will be a time for you
when sadness turns into strength;
grieving and guilt will turn into gratitude.
Anger and disappointment will be in the past,
and replaced by peace.
May all of us have strength to face difficulties and speak about them,
so then we can empower ourselves, others, and them.
(Applause)